


Everybody Has A Story

by horrorgirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Assault, Coming Out, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Healing, M/M, School Reunion, Sexual Assault, Smut, Starting Over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-20 18:30:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 54,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11926734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horrorgirl/pseuds/horrorgirl
Summary: Once friendly rivals, Cas and Dean cross paths at their 10 year high school reunion. As their friendship grows and changes, the dark side of Dean's free and chaotic lifestyle as a freelance writer casts a shadow over their lives. Dean truly believes that everybody has a story to tell, but can they put the shattered pieces together before their story ends?





	1. The Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> I broke this into individual chapters for two reasons. 1. I've been told that my chapters are too long. 2. There is a non-con/rape scene. 
> 
> Chapters 1-4 do not have any hint of violence. If you would like to read this story but feel like it may be triggering, chapter 4 is a good stopping point. Chapters 5-8 do contain descriptions of rape and violence.
> 
> I was inspired to write this because I have a close male family member who is a survivor of sexual assault. I have watched his struggle and I believe that most male victims are afraid to speak up. They are afraid of the stigma. But, their stories need to be told.

Dean leaned awkwardly against the bar with a drink in his hand and just watched. That’s what he did, people watch. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time and realized that he’d barely been there for an hour. 

“What’s the matter, chief? Not having fun?”

“I’m just a little jet lagged,” Dean smiled weakly. “My brain tells me that I’m in the Midwestern United States, my body tells me that I’m still in Europe.”

“You live a rough life,” Benny smiled, patting Dean on the back. 

“Yeah, well freelance writing isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Neither are ten year high school reunions, but here we are. You should probably slap a smile on and go shake some hands.”

“Hey, I kissed ass when I was in student government. No reason to go all politician now,” Dean grinned. His eyes moved around the room, stopping when he saw a shade of blue that defied description. He took in the purposely tousled hair, the friendly smile, the fit body. Their eyes locked for an instant and he saw an almost imperceptible nod. “Holy shit, is that…”

“Yeah,” Benny chuckled. “That’s Cas Novak. He was probably the scrawniest varsity athlete in the history of Lawrence High.”

“Maybe, but he kicked my ass when we ran drills. He was a hell of a soccer player.”

“Well, let’s grab another drink and mingle. Lisa is around here somewhere and I know that she wants to see you.”

“I still cannot believe you convinced her to marry you.”

“Neither can I,” Benny chuckled, signaling the bartender for two more drinks.

\--------------------

“Oh my god, Dean! You look amazing,” Lisa squealed, wrapping her arms around him. He was smiling when he pulled away. The Braeden’s and the Winchester’s had lived on the same street, their parents were close friends, and he’d given Lisa a ring pop when he asked her to marry him in the fourth grade.

“So do you,” he kissed her cheek softly. “I don’t know that I will ever forgive you for breaking up with me.”

“We were engaged for three years and I couldn’t convince you to set a date.”

“I had a lot going on when we were twelve years old,” Dean grinned. “Between soccer practice and boy scouts, the fact that I had to be home before dark, it was a stressful time. But I never did get the ring back. I spent 89 cents on that thing.”

“You were romantic.”

“Hey, the heart wanted what the heart wanted.”

“I’m so glad you could make it,” she laughed. “How long were you in Europe?”

“Just over two months.”

“Did you catch any soccer games while you were there?”

Dean turned around and was face to face with those blue eyes. “I desperately wanted to, but I didn’t have the time. How are you doing, man?” He held out his hand and was pulled into a one armed hug.

“I’m good,” Cas smiled. “So, Europe?”

“Yeah, I was over there working.”

“I don’t even know what you do for a living, but I’ve suddenly realized that I must be in the wrong career field,” Cas chuckled.

“I write. Mostly freelance shit. It’s really not that glamorous. I drink massive amounts of coffee, a fair amount of scotch, and I spend a lot of time staring at computers, which generally leads to headaches. So yeah, I guess I’m living the dream,” Dean grinned, tilting his glass to his lips. “Well, it looks like I’ve just run out of alcohol which tells me that it’s probably time to head back to my parents to sleep in my old twin bed. Again, living the dream.”

“I’m going to be in town for a few more days, and I’d be willing to sacrifice my quality time spent watching TV with my parents if you wanted to grab a beer.”

“Sure,” Dean shrugged, handing Cas his phone to program his number in it and use it to call his own. “I mean, I will miss out on at least one guilt trip from my mother if I leave the house, but I think I’ll be able to talk her down.”

Here,” Cas handed the phone back. “Now we know how to get a hold of each other. ”God this makes me...not miss high school at all,” Cas smiled.

“Hey, we went to division finals our senior year.”

“And we lost.”

“Good point,” Dean smiled, slipping his phone in his pocket. “Well, I see that Benny and Lisa moved on so I’d better go say my goodbye’s and let them guilt trip me into coming over for dinner.”

“You carry a pretty heavy burden of guilt.”

“Only when I’m in Lawrence,” Dean grinned. “It was great to see you.”

“You too, man.” 

Dean worked his way through the crowd, accepting hugs and making small talk until he finally found Benny and Lisa. They tried to convince him to stay, but he played up his exhaustion and left early.

\--------------------

Although Mary Winchester made up the guest room for Dean when he came into town, he always opted to sleep in his childhood bedroom. The posters, pictures, trophies, they all helped him feel grounded. He reached for an old yearbook, his senior year, and started flipping through the pages. Benny Lafitte and Lisa Braeden, the football player and cheerleader, the prom king and queen, the cliche couple who had found a way to make their relationship last. He found his own pictures. Student government, captain of the soccer team, best smile in the graduating class. He found pictures of a few other people that he’d talked to at the reunion, and then found Cas’s. He had to smile. Benny was right, he was a scrawny kid but a hell of an athlete. Dean was competitive by nature, and Cas Novak had always pushed him to be stronger and faster. They had a friendly rivalry all through high school, but still got along. Cas was likable, he always had been, and it was impossible to hold his natural ability against him. He finally set the yearbook on his desk and switched off the lamp, crawling onto the small bed and falling asleep when his head hit the pillow.

\--------------------

“How was the reunion?”

“Uneventful,” Dean yawned, smiling gratefully when his mother set a hot cup of coffee in front of him. “It was nice to see Benny and Lisa. I ran into a couple of other people that I was able to tolerate in high school.”

“Tolerate? You had a lot of friends.”

“Correction, I knew a lot of people. That doesn’t mean that I actually liked all of them.”

“You were in student government and you were captain of the soccer team.”

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled with his mouth full. “I knew how to smile pretty and kick a ball. My best friend was the starting quarterback. But, none of that means that I ever bought into the popularity bullshit. I just kind of landed there unintentionally.”

“You always dated such pretty girls.”

Dean groaned when he picked up his mug of coffee. “Are we really going to have the ‘why haven’t you found a nice girl to settle down with’ conversation? It’s not like I ran into an old girlfriend and sparks flew. Unless you count Lisa, but she’s still a little bitter about me calling off the wedding.”

“Dean…”

“What?” he grinned. “Sam has already given you two grandchildren. Wanting more just makes you look greedy.”

“Are you two out here bickering?” John Winchester smiled, pouring a cup of coffee and grabbing the newspaper off of the counter.

“Mom’s trying to arrange a marriage for me.”

“Hey, if we’re lucky we might be able to get four or five goats in trade.”

“I’d consider it if they are the goats that fall over when they are startled,” Dean smiled at his father.

“Dean!”

“What mom? Haven’t you seen them? It’s pretty funny and they’re fine. It doesn’t hurt them at all. You should check it out on YouTube. Just don’t fall down the YouTube rabbit hole. We’ll find you two hours later watching an infomercial for kitchen gadgets from the 1990’s.”

“Hey, that bagel slicer has come in handy more than once,” John chuckled.

“How did we get from Dean’s personal life to a bagel slicer?”

“Because my personal life isn’t that interesting. Is there more coffee?”

\--------------------

Dean was scrolling through pages of random notes on his laptop, trying to make heads or tails of them when his phone buzzed on the coffee table. He picked it up and looked at it, rolling his eyes while he read the text.

_“Although tomorrow’s TV schedule does look enticing (there is a movie marathon on the LIfetime Network) I was wondering if you wanted to grab that beer?”_

_“Yeah, sounds good. Time and place?”_

_“The pub over on Main St. maybe around 8:00?”_

_“That works. And by the way, you’re kind of an asshole.”_

_“Why?”_

Dean chuckled, _“You know why. I’ll see you at 8:00.”_

\--------------------

“What is all of that?”

“Candy that I bought while I was in Europe,” Dean smiled.

“You’re taking all of that to the Lafitte’s?” Dean’s father chuckled.

“You know how much I love giving other people’s kids a sugar rush. Don’t worry, I saved plenty for my stop in SoCal to see Sam.”

“You know, if you ever have kids of your own he will pay you back.”

“Then I guess it’s fortunate that I’ll never have kids of my own,” Dean grinned. “Well, off to dinner with Benny and Lisa. Don’t wait up, I’m sure I’ll be home by the crack of 9:00pm unless Benny breaks out the liquor.”

\--------------------

Lisa scowled when Dean wrestled around with the twin boys and then handed them a bag of candy. She promptly took the bag and promised the twins that they could have some after dinner. She tried to give Dean a death glare but all it took was a wink and a charming grin to make her smile. She couldn’t stay mad at him, and he knew it. “Do you want a beer?”

“Sure,” Dean grunted, gently removing the twin that had wrapped his body around Dean’s leg. “Where’s Benny?”

“Helping his brother finish his basement. He should be on his way home.”

“Does he trust you alone with me?” Dean grinned.

“Well, he does know about our passionate kiss in the rocketship slide at the park. He was pretty upset for awhile, but I think that he’s moved past it.”

Dean took the cold bottle from Lisa’s hand and unscrewed the cap. “So, the reunion…”

“Yeah,” Lisa sighed. “It was kind of interesting to see where everyone has ended up. I mean, we still talk to you and a few others, but some people really surprised me.”

“I can’t believe that Rachel has four kids. I dodged a bullet there.”

“You dodged bullets the entire time we were in school,” Lisa laughed. “How long was your longest relationship?”

“Three years, but you broke up with me. I think we covered this at length,” Dean smiled. “But I generally had a three month or three word rule. I started to ghost at the three month mark. If I felt the three magical words were coming before that, the ghosting started early.”

“And yet girls still went out with you.”

“I’m irresistible.”

“Or they all wanted to be the one who made it past the three month mark. Have you actually had a long term relationship?”

“Depends on what you consider long term.”

“It was a rhetorical question, Dean.” Lisa shook her head. “So, how many times has your mom asked you when you’ll settle down.”

“Since I’ve been in town? Just once. She ambushed me this morning over breakfast. I think she’s lost a step. I mean, I’ve been in town for what, three days now? Granted, I spent the first day sleeping, but you’d think she’d find a way to make up for that. I just pull the Sam’s family card and she usually backs off. I just hope that my brother gets his wife pregnant again. She’ll leave me alone for at least the first year.”

“Does Sam know about this plan?” Lisa chuckled.

“Yes, but so far Jess isn’t going for it. You’d think that she’d take one for the team.”

“What are you two chatting about?” Benny smiled, kissing Lisa softly and bending down to hug the twins.

“My brother’s sex life.”

“Sorry I missed it. Let me jump in the shower real quick.”

“Well,” Lisa turned back to Dean. “Since Benny still has to shower, you are contractually obligated to help me in the kitchen.”

“I thought I was the guest of honor.”

“You are. I’ll let you do something simple like setting the table.”

\--------------------

“So, last night…”

“Is this where we sit and gossip?” Benny smiled at his wife. “Because honestly I could not believe that Anna was wearing those shoes with that dress.”

“I thought the same thing. And Rachel’s hair? Not a flattering cut for her face shape.”

“Would you two shut up,” Lisa laughed. “Who do you think has changed the most?”

“Cas Novak,” Benny said, tilting his beer bottle to his lips. “The guy looks like he finally went through puberty.”

Dean almost choked trying to hold back the laughter.

“I’m actually going to agree with you on that. He does look good,” Lisa smiled.

“Ride off into the sunset and leave Benny here with the kids type of good? He wasn’t wearing a ring. I’m meeting the guy for a beer tomorrow, I could put in a good word for you if you want.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Lisa winked.

“Hey,” Benny scowled. “I am not dealing with both of these kids by myself.”

“You two can be real assholes.”

“I guess we know who hasn’t changed since high school,” Dean grinned.

\--------------------

Dean left after a couple of drinks and a round of hugs, followed by the same promises that they always made. He would come to Lawrence and visit more often. They would try to come up to Seattle for vacation. Instead of driving back to his parent’s house he drove around town. They’d taken down the rocketship slide at the park having deemed it too dangerous. The diner where they used to spend their Friday nights was still open and always busy. The pub on Main Street had obviously been renovated. Normally when he was in town he was either at his parent’s or at the Lafitte’s, and he was never there for longer than a week. His goal, everybody’s goal, was to get out of Lawrence after they graduated. He’d been surprised that Benny and Lisa had come back. But, Benny’s father did own a construction company and was semi-retired. On paper it made sense. 

He finally parked his 1967 Impala, the car that he’d coveted until the day his father passed it on to him, in front of the familiar house and smiled when he saw the soft glow of the lamp through the living room curtains. His mother had left a lamp on every time either he or Sam were still out when she went to bed. He turned it off when he got inside and walked quietly to his room. He started to reach for his laptop, but decided that he didn’t want to do any work. He laid in bed and thought about the girls he’d dated, the bullets he’d dodged, the fact that he eventually became hardened to mascara tears. He finally rolled on his side and started to softly snore.

\--------------------

“Soccer King? Really?” Dean smiled when he sat down on the tall stool and ordered a beer.

“You like that?” Cas grinned, tilting a bottle to his lips. “You handed me your phone and asked me to put my info in it. What’s flattering is that you knew who I was when you texted me.”

“Actually, I was expecting Kevin Tran to be here. I was a little surprised when I walked in and saw you sitting at the table.”

“Kevin Tran never made varsity,” Cas laughed. “And he didn’t piss you off nearly as often as I did.”

“You don’t know that. Maybe I saved my outward hostility for you,” Dean nodded at the cocktail waitress and handed her some cash when she set the cold beer on the table.

“Well then I am honored to have been the target of your frustration.”

“I am a grown man, I can now admit that you were a better athlete than I was. I hated you for it, still do.”

“Then why are you sitting here having a beer with me.”

“Because I’m trying to be the bigger man. And, my mom started in early with the guilt trip.”

“You have not changed,” Cas grinned.

“You know, Lisa said that exact same thing last night. That was right after she called both Benny and I assholes. Evidently we walked away with the title of ‘least changed since high school’.” Dean smiled.

“Oh yeah? Who was deemed most changed.”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Yep,” Dean shrugged. “I’m supposed to put in a good word for Lisa. Apparently she’s ready to ride off into the sunset with you.”

“Does Benny know this?”

“Oh yeah. He was pretty upset. He really doesn’t want to have to raise those kids alone.”

“Ah, high school reunions,” Cas sighed. “We travel just to spend hours in a reception hall being reminded of why we hated high school.”

“It wasn’t all bad. There were some good times. I mean, remember graduation day?”

“You were in student government and the captain of the soccer team. Don’t you have ‘back in the good old days’ flashbacks.”

“Not until Benny starts talking to me about the year that the football team almost took state. Even at that, those were Benny’s good old days.”

“Well, I’m guessing if you just got back from Europe, you’re currently living your good old days.”

“It wasn’t that glamorous,” Dean chuckled. “I’m working on a piece about the body positive trend. I spent a couple of months in Europe talking to designers, talent scouts, aspiring models, former models, even a few established models about body positivity and acceptance. I’m trying to dissect how much of it is a legitimate issue and how much of it is just for publicity. The idea of we stand united but only when it serves our purpose.”

“Models?” Cas grinned.

“That’s your take away? I’m trying to write a comprehensive piece, at least one, about social change and you focus on the models?”

“Okay, so to have a moment of shallow chauvinism, how many guys know about this story and actually focus on the social change aspect?”

“My editor,” Dean laughed. “What about you? What have you been up to?”

“Software design. It’s uh...well it’s fascinating shit. I could sit here all night and regale you with tales of UX/UI projects gone wrong. I also consume massive amounts of coffee and a fair share of scotch. And, I do understand the computer headache.”

“What type of work do you do specifically?”

“Well, I’m a subcontractor and consultant so I work on various projects as they are offered. I think the worst part about being a subcontractor is that my boss is a total asshole.”

“I’m a freelance writer, I know the feeling,” Dean grinned.

“So, writing? I wouldn’t have expected that.”

“Well, I took a creative writing class my sophomore year at UC Berkeley. I aced it. I loved it. I took a journalism class the next semester. I didn’t ace it, but I loved it. It just went from there.”

“I’m guessing that it’s a competitive industry?”

“Oh yeah,” Dean sighed. “I started at a small paper in Northern Cali, but I didn’t even get my own byline for a couple of years. So, I started doing some freelance shit and it piqued the interest of a media group in Seattle. A couple of years ago I realized that I needed to travel to get the story, and it’s become a vicious cycle of writing so that I can travel and travelling so that I can write. I won a borderline meaningless award last year so I have taken part in a few symposiums up and down the coast. Small colleges and writing workshops.”

“So what you’re saying is that this ten year high school reunion was more of a vacation than an annoyance?”

“No,” Dean grinned. “It was still an annoyance, but it did give me a small break.”

“When do you sleep?” Cas chuckled.

“When I’m in Lawrence,” Dean smiled. “So is this where we are obligated to turn this into a deep discussion about wives and children?”

“I don’t have either one. You?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, that was deep and meaningful. At least you dated a lot in high school. Didn’t you date Rachel?”

“Yeah,” Dean laughed. 

“Just think, those four kids could have been yours,” Cas grinned.

“Uh, no. My brother has two, Benny and Lisa have a set of twins. That fills any nonexistent void when it comes to children in my life. Now my mother, She truly believes that my biological clock is ticking and is holding out hope. Poor woman,” Dean took a long drink and sighed. “No desire for pitter patter of little feet?”

“While I do believe that this world does need more Novak’s, I’ve never really been in a position to create any.”

“Wait, are you saying that you’re still a virgin?”

“No,” Cas laughed. “I work too much. I enjoy a clean apartment. I’m not a huge fan of noise and sticky hands.”

“But you have siblings to take the brunt of the mom pressure?”

“Yes I do, thank god.”

“So, where are you living?”

“Just outside of Portland. I did the Cali thing too for awhile. I was a small cog in a large machine who was working 14 hours a day. I couldn’t do it. Now I sit at home in pajamas and work for 14 hours a day, but I get along with my co-workers.”

“Cat or dog?” Dean smiled.

“Neither. I had a houseplant for awhile. I felt bad when I inadvertently killed it. If I can’t remember to water a plant, there is no way I could be responsible for small needy humans.”

“And no wife?”

“No,” Cas chuckled. “I was extremely socially awkward in high school, but I’m guessing you remember that. It hasn’t really changed. I wouldn’t say that I’m completely inept, but I am definitely not charming and smooth.”

“Well, you look more grown up.”

“Have you been checking me out?” Cas grinned.

“It’s kind of hard not to notice the difference between the skinny kid who kicked my ass when we ran drills and this guy sitting here with a bottle of beer in his hand. Hell, you caught the eye of the head cheerleader.”

“And the starting quarterback is going to hunt me down.”

“I’m doubtful. They have the strangest dynamic. I mean, he still compliments her, she smiles when he walks into the room, they hug and kiss. I don’t get it.”

“So love?”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Dean smiled. “My brother and his wife are the same way.”

“And you don’t want that?”

“Is there where we have the heart to heart? We could hold off on the beer and start ordering cosmopolitans,” Dean chuckled. “In all reality, I’m so fucking busy that it wouldn’t be fair to draw anyone into my life. I never really know when I’m going to be home. I travel for work. I travel for symposiums and writing workshops. When I’m actually at home I’m working. I haven’t even bothered to try a houseplant because I already know what the grim outcome would be. I’m pretty happy with the status quo. I know that I did the student government thing in high school, but I’ve since discovered that I really don’t like people. I do the symposiums and workshops to make a little money and get my name out there. It’s not really a social thing.”

“They sound stimulating.”

“You have no idea. I actually have a workshop next month in Portland. The power of pop culture in the mainstream media. You should go. I’m guessing that it will be life altering.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” Cas grinned.

“You wish. Actually, I am looking forward to this one. I write human interest, and pop culture in the media is a huge thing now. I mean, people attach themselves to something that they love, a type of media, a genre, stories and characters. They see a reality, a universe that exists for them and because of them, and it’s powerful. At one point in time, people who felt passion for a book or a television show or a movie were relegated to attending small conventions at the risk of being mocked. Now there is wide acceptance, and an incredible infrastructure within these groups. Conventions are sold out, storylines are created outside of the original book or scripts, people associate themselves with characters in ways that they feel like they can’t with other humans. But, they find others who feel the same way, who experience the same struggles, and in turn they find acceptance and unity.”

“Okay, that does actually sound kind of interesting.”

“So register and go,” Dean smiled, pulling the beer bottle to his lips.

“I still think that you’re asking me on a date.”

“Keep dreaming, Soccer King.”

\--------------------

Dean was packing his bag, grateful that his mother had done his laundry so that he didn’t have to when he got home. He was going to stop and see his brother for a few days, take the Impala on a road trip. He hadn’t liked the idea of leaving his car in the parking stall in Seattle while he was in Europe, so he’d begrudgingly handed the keys back to his father before he caught his plane in Kansas City. He needed the open road and some loud music. He needed some time in Southern California . He needed to decompress before he went home and tried to pull all of his interviews, interactions, opinions, and personal thoughts together for a coherent story. If he was lucky, he could get more than one piece out of it.

\--------------------

Sam hugged him and smiled, a smile that turned into a scowl when he saw the toys and treats that Dean had brought for the kids. He spent three days taking part in friendly arguments with his brother, down playing his career to Sam’s wife, and letting the kids crawl all over him. He stopped in Berkeley and met with some professors before heading north to Seattle. His apartment was covered in a fine layer of dust and everything was as he had left it. He dropped his luggage on the floor, stripped down to his boxers, and crawled into his large bed, promising himself that he’d take two days of interrupted sleep before he did anything remotely related to work.


	2. This is who I really am

He was on his second cup of coffee, music playing in the background, when he opened his laptop. He had an editor looking for his article on body positivity and they’d been going back and forth over the deadline. The editor acquiesced and gave Dean an extension, something rare in the industry. But, Dean’s work was good, it was even better when he was given time to fine tune it. He already had one article ready for copy and a couple of others outlined. He checked his symposium and workshop schedules and then pulled up his email. He rolled his eyes and smiled.

 _“Captain Winchester,_  
_I was completely and utterly captivated by your description of your career and I decided that as a close personal acquaintance from high school, it was my duty to support you in your endeavors. I happened upon a conversation in a coffee shop that included a handful of hipsters and was centered around a writing workshop. I was reminded of your obvious passion for taking part in such events, and recalled your excitement regarding the one you have scheduled next week in my fair city. If you would like to meet up again for a beer, I will be around._

_The Soccer King_

_P.S. I still haven’t heard from Lisa. I guess it’s a good thing I held off on finding horses and checking the moon cycle for the perfect sunset.”_

\--------------------

 _“Soccer Prince,_  
_I will be arriving at the palatial Super 8 motel near the convention center Wednesday afternoon. I do have a very tight itinerary. I will have fast food to consume, various articles to read, and if there is time, a movie (possibly two) to watch. I’m booked solid, but I might be able to squeeze in some time to meet for drinks. I’ll have to rearrange my schedule, which is quite inconvenient, but I do owe it to a close personal acquaintance who supports me in my endeavors._

_The True Soccer King_

_P.S. I’ll speak with Lisa on your behalf. I am confused as she has always been a woman of her word._

\--------------------

 _Your Royal Highness,_  
_Fuck it, call me when you get into town. You can come to my place and we can order pizza._

_The Socially Inept Court Jester_

_P.S. I’ve realized that it’s time to give up on my dreams of riding off into the sunset. I’ve made peace with it, especially after I remembered that I’ve never actually ridden a horse."_

\--------------------

Dean had a meeting with an editor in the morning and needed to make sure that his suit didn’t smell like it had spent months shoved in the back of his closet. He still silently thanked the costume designer who introduced him to the art of steaming clothing rather than ironing and finally stepped back, satisfied with both the smell and the look of the clean suit. 

\--------------------

“Mr. Winchester, how was your trip? I’m guessing that crawling your way through the trenches of the fashion industry was hell,” the editor grinned.

“Yeah, working around models is tough, but I am willing to take one for the team to get my byline out there. I got multiple points of view when it came to body positivity. Designers, models, scouts, they all seem to come at it from different angles and I think that I can show that fairly and concisely.”

“Body positivity is hot right now.”

“Well, in it’s own way, it’s a push for social change. It is a little challenging to be a member of the media writing about the media’s role in body shaming without passing judgment.”

“I’ve published a few of your articles, I’m guessing that you can pull it off. So, you can have it submitted by the end of the week?”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. I have some other ideas that I’d love to run past you. I have plenty of material to write more than one piece.”

“Why don’t you send me a synopsis and I’ll look them over.”

“Thank you, sir.” Dean smiled and shook the man’s hand, breathing a sigh of relief. 

He went home long enough to change into jeans and a t-shirt and grab his bag. He got into his car and headed for Portland.

\--------------------

“Novak palace.”

“You’re kind of a dick,” Dean laughed into the phone.

“Is that any way to talk to royalty?”

“You mean the self proclaimed court jester?”

“Hey, I call it as I see it. Are you in town?”

“I am. Just taking in the beauty that is this fine three star motel. It’s not quite as quaint as the places I stayed at in Europe. I mean, I got quite close with the other guests considering that we all shared one bathroom at the end of the hallway.”

“Remind me never to go to Europe with you.”

“Was that on your bucket list?”

“If it was, I’ve since removed it,” Cas chuckled. “So, visiting hours at Novak Palace start at...oh look at that, they start now. Your timing is impeccable. I’m guessing that you have to unpack and shower and take a moment to enjoy your luxurious surroundings?”

“No to the unpacking. I’m fine living out of a duffel bag. Yes to the shower. And a no to the luxurious surroundings. I want to pace myself.”

“Well, I’ll text you my address. I don’t know that it can compare to a Super 8, but hopefully your delicate senses won’t be too offended. Show up whenever. I’m driving myself crazy with a project and welcome any distraction.”

“Is that all I am to you?” Dean chuckled. “A distraction?”

“Yes. I’ll see you when you get here.”

\--------------------

“I will admit that this is a vast improvement over the Super 8,” Dean smiled, walking around the small apartment. He chuckled at the familiarity of the large computer desk and multiple monitors shoved in the corner of the living room. It was more elaborate than his set up, but he understood how it felt to turn your home into your office.

“Do you want a beer?”

“I’d love one. So why the invite?”

“Well,” Cas smiled, handing him a cold bottle. “Hanging out with the popular kids in high school was on my bucket list. I know that it’s been ten years, but I figured I might as well cross it off. Especially after I realized that neither of us really like people and you admitted that I was a better soccer player.”

“Okay, that’s not entirely true. I like Benny and Lisa, and my family. Well, the majority of the time I like my family.”

“Mom guilt trips?” Cas questioned, gesturing for Dean to sit down on the couch.

“I’ve actually grown pretty hardened to them over the years. I’m hoping that she’ll give up soon. The old man and I get along fine, for about a week. My brother? He’s always been a pain in my ass, but I do actually like the kid.”

“Touching,” Cas grinned, taking a sip of his beer. “So the whole student government thing, the perpetual smile, it was a ruse?”

“Pretty much. I don’t know, parts of it were okay, but really it was a means to an end. It looked good on a college application.”

“Why Berkeley?”

“I applied, I was accepted, it wasn’t in Kansas.”

“Fair enough.”

“You?”

“Oregon State, same reasons. Like I said, I was in Cali for awhile, small cog, I hated it. I decided to come back and ended up in Portland. I’m able to do most of my work remotely, occasional Skype meetings while I’m wearing a button up shirt, tie, and pajama pants.”

“Interesting visual,” Dean smiled.

“You’re the one who knows fashion.”

“Hey, I actually don’t know shit about fashion. I didn’t understand most of what they consider trends. I was there for a human interest story.”

“Around models for two months.”

“Yeah, don’t go there. Never go there,” Dean groaned. “I actually felt bad for a lot of them; the pressure they’re under. If they haven’t made a big name, they really don’t make money. A lot of the things that they said were basically canned responses. The most insightful shit I got was from former models.”

“You are passionate about it.”

“Maybe,” Dean shrugged. “Or maybe I just like to call bullshit when I see it. So, I believe that you promised pizza?”

“I did. The royal chef took the night off so we’re going to have to eat like common folk and order it.”

“Have you always been this offbeat?”

“Yes. You just never really talked to me in high school so you didn’t get the full Cas Novak experience. What do you want on your pizza?”

\--------------------

“So,” Dean sighed happily, leaning back on the couch with a full stomach and a beer. “Any interests outside of that whole computer thingy and your obvious affinity for literary LARPing?”

“Literary LARPing? I’m going to have to remember that one. I’ll have the royal scribe take note when he returns from dragging the moat for the bodies of my enemies. Interests? Lately I seem to be drawn to eavesdropping on hipsters in coffee shops.”

“That is a pretty specific hobby.”

“Says the guy who lives in Seattle.”

“Good point,” Dean chuckled.

“My interests, if you can even call them that, range from boring all of the way to dull. I watch movies, listen to music, coach little league soccer when I can.”

“You coach little league soccer?”

“Yes,” Cas smiled. “Why do you look so surprised? I was the best soccer player on my high school team.”

“I’m not surprised, I’m kind of impressed. You said you didn’t like kids.”

“No, I said that I didn’t want kids of my own. There is a vast difference. A co-ed team of nine and ten year olds is actually enjoyable. You can easily see the ones who have a true love of the game and aren’t just there because mom wants to be a soccer mom. I remember that feeling. Being the skinny kid who never thought of himself as athletic until I took the field the first time. It’s gratifying.”

“Wow, multiple sentences without a single hint of sarcasm. I had no idea that you were capable of such a thing,” Dean grinned.

“It’s not something that I’m proud of, or that I usually let people see. I hope that we can keep it between us.”

“Scouts honor.”

“Were you actually a scout?”

“I was,” Dean nodded.

“Okay, now I know that you can be trusted. But, I love coaching, I love horror movies, I love music, I love long walks on the beach.”

“But no horseback rides into the sunset?”

“Those dreams have been dashed.”

“Don’t feel too bad about Lisa. Her and I dated for years but she dumped me.”

“What?” Cas laughed.

“We grew up on the same street. It must have been Mrs. Harvelle’s first grade class when I knew in my heart that Lisa and I were destined. I proposed three years later, but she dumped me in seventh grade. She said that I was dragging my feet and not taking our engagement seriously. I rode my bike to the Mini Mart and spent my own money on that ring pop. I mean, what more could she want?”

“Did you get the ring back?”

“No. Her mom made her throw it away after she dropped it on the playground.”

“The end of a truly great romance.”

“I was never the same.”

“Ah, intimacy issues. Now high school makes sense.”

“What does that mean?” Dean chuckled.

“Dean Winchester’s girlfriend du jour. I think you dated every girl in our class. Apparently even Lisa Braeden.”

“Hey, I didn’t date Charlie Bradbury.”

“Charlie Bradbury is a lesbian and came out in the ninth grade.”

“Still,” Dean smiled. “She was a girl in our class. Honestly I just didn’t want the entanglements. I’ll tell you something that Benny doesn’t even know. I didn’t sleep with most of them. It was just part of the package. Sports, student government, stupid dances. I didn’t hate it, but I didn’t love it. I didn’t go into school with the intention of being a popular kid. I didn’t even want it. I think a lot of it had to do with the fact that I was best friends with the starting quarterback and the head cheerleader. We’d been good friends since grade school and it just kind of carried over. What about you? You weren’t unpopular. You had a few girlfriends.”

“Yeah, and I did what I could to sleep with all of them,” Cas grinned. 

“Did you?”

“A couple of them. You know, that hot clumsy embarrassing high school sex.”

“Ah yes. Spending more time trying not to finish early than actually enjoying it. So, as much as I do love a good conversation about embarrassing and awkward high school sex, you said that you like horror movies?”

“I would say good transition of topic, yet the two seem somehow related. But yes, I do like horror movies.”

“There is going to be a panel on the genre. They have some really good authors lined up and a couple of screenwriters.”

“So that’s what it is? Panels?”

“Parts of it. But, there are roundtables and forums. I know that you’re not a writer, so I’m not exactly selling it.”

“Are you speaking?”

“Yes,” Dean chuckled. “I do have to get up there and talk about pop culture in the media.”

“Will you buy me dinner afterwards?” Cas winked.

“I told you, it’s not a date.”

“Yeah, you probably wouldn’t put out anyway.”

\-------------------- 

Dean was trying not to yawn while he sorted through his notes. He’d stayed at Cas’s until well after midnight just talking, and had to speak in less than two hours. He’d covered this topic before, but he was trying to go at it with a new angle, something that would come off as unique. He felt his phone vibrate and pulled it out of his pocket.

_“So my asshole boss took pity on me and let me have the day off. After a mini marathon of really bad horror movies and the self realization that I have no life, I was wondering if the offer still stands.”_

Dean shook his head and smiled.

_“Of course. You are more than welcome to suffer through this alongside me.”_

_“Could you possibly pass on this information to the somewhat menacing man at the front door? Why in the hell would a writing workshop have security?”_

Dean sighed and walked through the convention center, meeting Cas at the door. “He’s with the group from Berkeley, he must have forgotten his credentials. I apologize.”

“You need credentials?” Cas whispered.

“If you haven’t registered as a guest and show up pretending to be a writer or a speaker you do. But, you are now obligated to speak,” Dean smiled.

“Can I borrow your notes?”

“Oh hell no, you have to wing it. Let’s go check out the schedule and you can figure out which panels or workshops you want to go to.”

“Do I actually need to pretend that I’m a writer?”

“Yes. Just play the strong silent type. I’ll let you borrow my iPad so that you can pretend you’re taking notes.”

“You guys take this shit seriously,” Cas smiled.

“We have to. Now come on.”

\--------------------

“My job is not to convince you to focus on written words, it’s to take you on the journey with me. A good story is not just prose, it’s an experience. If you are in any way emotionally moved by what I create, then I have accomplished what I set out to do…”

Cas sat, transfixed, and watched Dean. He was genial and confident. He spoke passionately about pop culture and social change in the media. Cas knew that he would possibly spend an entire day searching for Dean’s byline. He saw small similarities between the good looking and charismatic teenager who used his smile and charm to win elections in high school, but there was an unexpected assurance and maturity now. 

He was introduced to horror authors, some that he had read and enjoyed. He sat at a round table with screenwriters, some whose work he had watched and appreciated. There was something almost intensely free and artistic. He found himself having cocktails with established writers when the workshop was over and caught Dean watching him from across the room, always a wink or a nod of encouragement.

\--------------------

“So, how boring was that?”

“Well, I’m actually going to admit that it was interesting,” Cas smiled, handing Dean a tumbler of scotch. 

“It’s one of our better workshops. The one at UCLA is phenomenal. I’m trying to work my way into the East Coast circuit. I’m hoping that my most recent articles might get my foot in the door.”

“So you spent two months in Europe for the possibility of a couple of published articles and your foot in the door?”

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged. “That’s how this business works."

“How do you get up there and speak like that?”

“You think about what you know, what you’re passionate about, and what you still need to learn. Somehow it all falls into place. I’m a thesis away from finishing grad school and some of my professors at Berkeley have encouraged me to teach.”

“If you say the shit that you said today, I can see why.”

“Thanks,” Dean smiled. “But, I don’t know that I’m the classroom type.”

“You’re more of a ‘share a bathroom with total strangers’ type?”

“Not purposely, but when necessary I am,” Dean chuckled. “Like I said, it’s not the most glamorous life.”

“As opposed to my little slice of heaven?”

“Do you love what you do? Or is it a means to an end?”

“I don’t know,” Cas sighed. “My goal is to ensure that a customer can get from point A to point B with the fewest steps possible. It’s problem solving on a grand scale. My brain isn’t wired to be subjective.”

“Oh really, Soccer King?” Dean smiled.

“The fact that you have admitted that I was the superior soccer player is not subjective.”

“What about the literary LARPing?”

“That’s just fucking around,” Cas blushed.

“It takes creativity. I mean, you pulled me into it. If people were to read our emails, they’d probably think that we’re bat shit crazy, and they might be right. However, it was offbeat and entertaining.”

“And not the type of thing that will bring about social change.”

“No,” Dean smiled, tilting the glass to his lips. “But, it shows quick wit. The ability to take a preformatted conversation and turn it into something else.”

“Are you trying to recruit?”

“No,” Dean laughed. “I saw your face today, you enjoyed yourself. Your emails make me laugh. And, I’ve had a few drinks.”

“So I’m amusing when you’ve had a few drinks?” Cas smiled. 

“Maybe a little more amusing, but you still made me laugh when I was drinking coffee and not scotch. What I write, it’s generally serious. Everybody talks about two months in Europe with models, but it wasn’t anything like what they probably picture. I wasn’t living the high life with some beautiful woman warming my bed every night. A lot of it was just sad, man. These unrealistic ideals that push people towards self destruction because that’s the path that the media leads them down.”

“And you’re part of the media.”

“Not that part, never that part. Call me old fashioned, but I want to tell it how it really is and not gloss over the reality. Every single woman that I saw was beautiful. Maybe it was their eyes or their lips, the way they carried themselves, I don’t know. You can find beauty in anything if you are open to it.”

“Why weren’t you this guy in high school?”

“First of all,” Dean poured another drink and topped off Cas’s glass. “This guy didn’t really exist yet. He was there, but I didn’t understand him.”

“And second of all?”

“Who is going to listen to the captain of the soccer team try to change the status quo? Yeah, there was the popularity thing but like I said, it was a trickle down effect.”

“So you really never gave a shit?” 

“No,” Dean looked at Cas, his eyes sincere and honest. “I still don’t. Did you really give a shit?”

“Not really,” Cas chuckled. “I just wanted to get out there and kick a ball around. I walked through the halls as a shy skinny kid. Likable enough, but not necessarily memorable. I walked onto that field believing that I had some...I don’t know...power maybe?”

“That makes sense, but where does your power come from now?”

“What?”

“Your power? I mean, when you finish a project, when you’ve followed all of the steps and created something for a client, do you draw power from that?”

“Like a sense of accomplishment?”

“I guess,” Dean shrugged. 

“My job is my job. It’s what I know and it’s what I’m good at. Sure, it’s satisfying when all of the parts become the sum and I can sign off on something that is solely my creation.”

“But how do you feel? I mean, is it a rush or a relief?”

“You were never this intense in high school,” Cas smiled.

“Sorry, I just...I don’t talk to a lot of people. I mean, I interview people. I ask questions. I get up on a thrown together stage and I speak about what I do for a living and the things that matter to me, but it’s almost parasocial. Either I’m listening or they’re listening, but it’s never a conversation. We notate what the other is saying. It’s not collaborative, it’s one sided. It doesn’t become interaction until I know that an article has gone to copy and that somewhere somebody is reading what I wrote. That hopefully my thoughts and my feelings translated. That what I created evoked an emotion, it doesn’t matter what emotion, just that it meant something. Even if it pissed them off, it made them feel something.”

“Isn’t it exhausting, though?”

“What?”

“Putting yourself out there like that? Writers, good writers, they strip themselves bare. I saw that today. You take a subject that you are passionate about and you put your innermost thoughts into presenting it to the world. Maybe you don’t get to see or hear the reaction, but that has to make you feel vulnerable; at least to a certain degree.”

“You know,” Dean chuckled. “I remember wanting my byline so badly. I’d written small blurbs or been a contributor, but I wanted my own article. Something that was strictly mine. I was so fucking scared when it went to copy. It felt like I was standing naked in front of the entire school. In this day and age they publish the shit online and I looked at the comments section, wondering if I would find a dream or a nightmare. God, it took me days before I could bring myself to read them. But I eventually did, and it wasn’t like I got five star reviews. I read every single comment and every comment on a comment and some of it made me feel like I’d been punched in the chest. Accepting rejection is a part of putting yourself out there. Not everybody is going to agree with me. But I told myself, if I could find one, just one positive comment, then I would keep writing.”

“What was it?” Cas asked quietly.

“The comment?”

“No, the article.”

"No,” Dean shook his head. “Don’t do the whole ‘I want to look it up and read it’ thing. I wrote it a few years ago and it was a piece on appearance acceptance; tattoos, piercings, unnatural hair color. Do those things affect the way we view people in certain professions. Like the idea that it’s okay if your barista has a few tattoos on their forearm, but if your doctor has a full sleeve then he must be shady. That type of shit. Cas...no...seriously…” Dean took a deep breath when Cas sat down across from him with his laptop. “Fucking Google,” he muttered. He watched Cas type and scroll. He watched his eyes follow the words on his screen. He watched for any nuance of change in his facial expression as he read. “You’re either a fast reader, or the piece sucked,” he smiled weakly when Cas finally lifted his eyes and looked at him.

“I’m a fast reader. You hid your passion. It’s there, but it’s underlying. I can’t imagine what your newer work is like.”

“I’m guessing that you’ll look it up when I’m not here.”

“And that bothers you?”

“No. I can’t let it. My family reads the shit. They don’t always understand it, but they read it. Lisa emails me every time I publish something and I know that she’s sincere. It’s that reader who doesn’t know me that matters.”

“So the comments section? Or me?”

“You?”

“We went to the same high school, we played soccer together, we’ve had drinks a couple of times. That doesn’t mean that I know you. I have a feeling that somebody could spend a lot of time around you, but never really know you.”

“Possibly,” Dean smiled. “Probably. I honestly don’t know. I don’t stop long enough to give anyone the chance.”

“Or you don’t want to. But, we don’t need to turn this conversation into psychobabble. Drinking with an acquaintance should be more lighthearted,” Cas grinned.

“I’d think that sneaking you past the extremely intimidating ‘security’ at the convention center may have elevated you to friend status, but we can stick with close personal acquaintance. I think I’m going to head back to the Super 8. Thanks for the drinks, and for the conversation.” Dean set his empty tumbler on the coffee table and stood up.

“Are you leaving tomorrow?”

“I figured I might as well. I need to submit a synopsis to an editor and hopefully outline some new takes on my trip to Europe. Why?”

“I do have a soccer ball floating around here somewhere,” Cas grinned.

“Are you challenging me to a little one on one?”

“That sounds more like a proposition when worded that way, but yeah. I can talk to my boss, but if you have to leave...”

“Call me in the morning,” Dean smiled, giving Cas a quick hug. He pulled the door closed behind him and dug in his pocket for his keys. He wasn’t drunk, he wasn’t even tipsy. He didn’t know how it had been so easy to open up to somebody who was familiar, but didn’t really know him. Maybe that was it. Maybe it was because Cas didn’t really know him. Either way, he felt more relaxed than he had in months, and was looking forward to feeding his competitive side with a soccer ball.

\--------------------

“You coach, you have an unfair advantage,” Dean laughed.

“I teach nine and ten year olds how to run drills. That doesn’t exactly give me the upper hand.”

“Okay, fair enough. But you’ve bulked up what, 30lbs since high school?”

“About that. For all you know it will just slow me down,” Cas grinned.

“Drop the ball and let’s go.”

No cleats, no shin guards, just the track pants and t-shirt that he always packed to sleep in on the off chance that housekeeping showed up while he was still in bed. They slid on the damp park grass in their plain sneakers. Had it been a real game they would have each been yellow carded, at the very least. They were bruised and out of breath but neither willing to give up until Dean took Cas down and felt the brunt of his body weight when they both landed on the ground.

“Okay,” Dean grunted. “I think I’m done.”

“You’re giving up?”

“Feel free to throw me in your moat.”

“That’s just for my enemies,” Cas laughed, standing up and reaching out his hand. He pulled Dean to his feet and they brushed the grass off of their clothes. “You’re still as brutal as you were ten years ago.”

“Yeah,” Dean grinned. “But there isn’t a ref to call me out when I play dirty.”

“I still can’t believe that you didn’t catch a single game while you were in Europe,” Cas groaned, his ribs sore when he bent down to pick up the ball.

“In hindsight I wish I would have. Maybe next time.”

“Next time?”

“Have to work so that I can travel, have to travel so that I can work.”

“Yeah, well I have to drink coffee so that I can work, and I have to work so that I can pay for the coffee.”

“See,” Dean smiled. “You get it, the infinite cycle. I’ve got my bag in my car and I begrudgingly gave my key card back to the front desk at the plush resort that I was staying at, so I’m going to head home from here. You should come up to Seattle sometime.” 

“Oh yeah?” Cas said, bouncing the soccer ball on his knees.

“Showoff. But, yeah, if you’re ever headed north…”

“I don’t really have a reason to head north.”

“You have a friend who lives up there,” Dean grinned, catching the ball in the air and throwing it to Cas. “I’ll let you know when the next writers workshop is.”

“Yeah, put me on a mailing list or something,” Cas smiled, giving Dean a hug before he walked away, turning to smile and wink as he got in the black Impala and started the engine. Cas just shook his head slowly when he watched him pull out of the parking lot.

\--------------------

Cas knew that he should be working. He had a deadline. But, he spent hours searching for Dean’s articles, reading them, reading the comments. He felt the shift, a maturity and confidence. There were reviews of his work, mentions of the awards that he’d downplayed, discussions and forums that he had been a part of. He clicked and scrolled until it was time to switch from scotch to coffee.

\--------------------

Dean sent off a second article to copy and started poring over his notes from the workshop in Portland. He was distracted when he heard his phone. “Dean Winchester.”

“Professional greeting, but not the most welcoming way to answer the phone.”

“Hey,” Dean grinned. “Had I checked the caller ID I probably would have tried to come up with something more aristocratic. So, what’s up?”

“Well, I did exactly what you didn’t want me to do and found the Dean Winchester collection spread far and wide. Seriously, how did we live before Google?”

“I believe it was called the Encyclopedia Britannica.”

“No, that’s more Wikipedia style.”

“Fair enough.”

“So, I actually called for an opinion.”

“Well, op-ed isn’t really my thing, but shoot.”

“Conventions.”

“That’s kind of a broad subject.”

“Pop culture conventions,” Cas chuckled. “I read your stuff, I read about workshops and symposiums, and it led me to conventions. I get the gist, but I’m guessing that you might have an insider’s take.”

“I’ve been to a few. Why?”

“Well,” Cas took a deep breath. “I noticed that there is a horror convention in Seattle in a few weeks and I was thinking about checking it out.”

“Oh yeah. I saw that,” Dean mumbled, trying to keep his phone from sliding out from between his ear and his shoulder while he started a new pot of coffee. “It’s one of the smaller ones. They usually only get about seven thousand people.”

“Seven thousand?”

“Yep,” Dean chuckled. “The big ones will draw 100,000 plus. So my take on conventions? I’ve been, they make me feel like I’m going to lose my fucking mind, I’ve loved each and every one.”

“I’m not sure if you’re trying to sell it or not.”

“Okay, my take is that I truly believe that everybody should attend at least one in their life. There is nothing else like it. They have small conventions that are specific to certain movies, TV shows, books. They have genre heavy ones, that’s what you’re looking at. Then they have the big daddies, the more inclusive conventions that have a little bit of everything. They can be noisy and crowded, totally overwhelming, but it’s not something that you will ever forget. So, you are seriously considering coming up here for a convention?”

“I need to talk to my boss. He’s being a total prick lately. He pulled me aside and accused me of fucking around instead of working. He singled me out.”

“You might want to take that up with HR. My boss sexually harassed me one time…”

“Okay,” Cas laughed. “We can stop here. So I’m about 72% sure that I’ll be up in Seattle for this convention.”

“Why only 72%?”

“I need to make sure that I can take the time off of work.”

“Is your royal scribe still dragging the moat? Maybe he could take some of the work off of your hands.”

“No, he’s done. All he found was a soccer mom who was pissed that her kid didn’t get to play goalie and a barista that I forgot to tip. It’s been a slow year.”

“Are you coming up here or what?” Dean laughed, pouring a fresh cup of coffee.

“I’m thinking so. So what’s the best way for a newbie to do this? Get the weekend pass? Buy a one day pass?”

“Call up a near and dear acquaintance and tell him that you want to go. Chances are he knows a guy.”

“Wow, that almost sounded mafia-esque.”

“You have royal serfs, I have ‘family’. I’d like to think that my job comes with perks. It doesn’t, but I’d like to think so.”

“Do I have to pretend to be a writer again?”

“Yes.”

“Do I really?”

“Yes,” Dean smiled into the phone. “But you don’t have to pretend to be a good one.”

“I can work with that. So I guess I’ll be in town in a few weeks.”

“Let me know when and I’ll make sure to get all of the crumbs off of my couch.”

“I can get a room.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt your ability to do so. I just need a reason to vacuum the crumbs off of my couch.”

“You are such a dick.”

“I hear that a lot. So, let me know when you will be arriving and I shall prepare my abode accordingly.”

“Rose petals on my sleeping place are not a necessity, but they are preferred.”

“Duly noted. Call me and let me know when you’ll be here.”

“I will,” Cas laughed.

\--------------------

Dean pushed Cas a few feet and apologized to the convention goers walking past. “So are we just going to stand here?”

“I’m assimilating.”

“You spend entirely too much time alone in that apartment staring at computer monitors,” Dean smiled, reaching for Cas’s arm. “Come on, I promise that I won’t let anybody bite you. Well, except maybe that guy. His cosplay is pretty intense.”

“He is dedicated,” Cas muttered, following Dean.

\--------------------

“So, did it live up to your expectations?” Dean grinned, handing Cas a drink.

“I didn’t really have expectations, so I’m going to have to go with a non answer on that.”

“Interviewee was not cooperative when asked direct questions…” Dean quietly muttered, feigning writing notes on his hand.

“Asshole,” Cas grinned. “I will say that you were right. There is nothing else like it and everybody should go at least once.”

“Does this mean that we’re going back for day two?”

“A part of me wishes that we were still there, a part of me wants to sleep for 18 solid hours.”

“The adrenaline is wearing off,” Dean chuckled. “The scotch should help with that.”

“It’s much appreciated.” Cas raised his glass slightly before tilting it to his lips. “So, if you were to walk in there today with the interest in a legitimate story, what would you have been looking for?”

“Are you looking for writing advice? Or are you picking my brain?” Dean smiled.

“Well, I’m a software designer so I don’t really necessitate writing advice. I’m not sure that it’s picking your brain, per se. I guess I’m just wondering what you saw when we walked in. What were you drawn to? Where was the human interest?”

“Honestly?”

“As entertaining as a well thought out lie might be, I’m going to have to say yes to the honesty.”

“You are such an asshole,” Dean laughed. “The truth? My interest was in your reaction.”

“My reaction?”

“Yeah. I mean how many times did I have to backtrack or come find you because I wanted to show you something? I realized after about the sixth or seventh time that it wasn’t my job to show you things, I was there to experience it with you. It was your experience and I was there to share it. I go through life looking for the story.”

“And I was the story?”

“No. There was no story, and that was the beauty of it. I’m always looking for the story; researching, traveling, outlining, writing. Almost everything that I do somehow ends up tied into what I type up and send to an editor. Normally I can only get away from it when I’m in Lawrence.”

“Or when Lawrence comes to you,” Cas chuckled.

“Yes, or when Lawrence comes to me,” Dean grinned. “But you’re not really Lawrence anymore. You’ve seen me in my natural habitat.”

“Your apartment, the writing workshop, or the convention?”

“Shit, all three. Now if I could just get you to ghost write my byline, I could take some badly needed time off.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure an editor wouldn’t pick that up. I’m not a writer.”

“Everybody is a writer. We all have a story; maybe it’s our own, maybe it’s somebody else’s, maybe it’s characters that we create. I sound like I’m at a symposium, don’t I?”

“Maybe a little,” Cas laughed.

“You get used to saying the same shit over and over again.”

“That doesn’t taking the meaning out of it. I mean, you’re right. We all have a story.”

“So what’s yours?” Dean asked while he topped off their drinks. “I vaguely remember our high school experience, but how did Cas Novak get from there to here?”

“Well,” Cas took a deep breath. “I left for school with high hopes and quickly discovered that college is college. I didn’t do the whole frat party boy thing, I kind of wish that I had. I made some friends, I dated, I spent way too much time staring at computers so that I could get a piece of paper stating that I am competent to stare at computers. For a short period of time I stared at them in California, now I stare at them in Portland”

“Wow, ten years in a nutshell.”

“There’s really not much to expand upon. When I was in school I played soccer my Freshman year, but got cut. That hurt. I dated a girl for three years. I was getting ready to do the ‘get down on one knee’ thing, but she broke up with me before I could. That hurt worse. Those are the two stand outs when it comes to my college years. I worked, went to class, went to an occasional party, and felt a bit of vengeful satisfaction when the soccer team didn’t even make it to division. I wanted to go to Silicon Valley and be the next Steve Jobs, but that didn’t pan out. I didn’t want to go back to Kansas. I love it there, we grew up there, but somehow it felt like it would be self defeating. I ended up back in Oregon living a low profile life. What about you?”

“Similar story, the beginning anyway. Left for school. I also played soccer, only I played intramural. I wasn’t good enough for the actual team. I worked, went to class, and went to probably too many parties. I walked away from Berkeley with a degree and dreams of winning a Pulitzer, which I still have not ruled out. I quickly learned that a career in writing does not mean they send you to the front lines for the story. I did a lot of grunt work until I was given credit as a contributor. I did more grunt work until I was given my byline. It was a small article in a small paper, well you read it so you know. I just kept grinding. I took a risk and started writing the stories that I thought were important and I shopped them. For every one that I’ve had published I have probably ten that nobody would touch. A media group up here took a small interest in my work so I said fuck it and moved. Being closer to their office doesn’t change anything, but I needed a home base and this was just as good as anywhere else. I don’t make a lot of money writing, but after I won a meaningless award for a piece that I was hesitant to even shop, I was asked to do a symposium. I spoke for about six minutes but somebody thought it was good enough to invite me back. I ended up in a paid circuit. A lot of junior colleges, some independent workshops, a couple of larger schools. It pays the bills, it pays for the traveling. I’ve been working on a thesis when I have time, which I rarely do. I already told you that my professors at Berkeley have encouraged me to teach, but I know that isn’t my direction. Not yet anyway.”

“Kept up the girlfriend du jour way of dating?”

“No,” Dean sighed. “I was actually in a relationship for a couple of years.”

“What happened?”

“It was a college thing and we were young. We drifted apart. Looked at each other one day and realized that it just wasn’t there anymore. Decided to spend one last night together, and then went our separate ways.”

“That sounds...civil. You haven’t been in a serious relationship since?”

“Not really. I just don’t have time for it. I put everything that I have into my work. What about you?”

“I honestly don’t want to go through it again. I don’t want to give somebody everything that I have just to watch the door close when they leave with very little explanation. And just saying that tells me that I need another drink,” Cas smiled weakly. “So you actually walked away unscathed?”

“For the most part. I mean, I had to walk away from the social circle when I stopped going to games. But, I focused on my education without any distraction. Well, I still partied a little, so I guess there was some distraction.”

“Wait, games? Unfortunately gymnasts compete in meets, so you didn’t date a gymnast. Let me guess, volleyball?”

“Uh no,” Dean blushed, dropping his eyes. “Rugby.” He finished his drink and poured himself another.

“Wait, rugby? But rugby players are...I mean...oh...OH…” 

“To answer the question that you don’t want to ask, I’ve never cared which side somebody plays for. It’s not about anatomy to me. It’s about the connection. I think that this is where my unintentional revelation leads us to an uncomfortable silence.” Dean finally lifted his eyes and saw the confusion in the blue ones looking back at him. “Or at the very least, a rapid change of subject.”

“So in high school…”

“Or option number three which is where we actually talk about it. Did I know in high school? I’ve always known. But, high school was not the time to test the waters.”

“Was he…”

“My first? He was. It’s just like any other story. We met at a party, and it went from there. But was he my only? No. I’ve dated, I haven’t lived the life of a saint.”

“Is this why the whole model thing didn’t interest you?”

“No,” Dean finally chuckled. “They were beautiful and they did interest me. But, I was working and that is not the time to go playing around. You can’t really get a good interview during an awkward morning after. It took a lot of willpower, but I slept alone on that trip.”

“Does your family know?”

“That I didn’t get laid while I was in Europe? Not exactly fodder for a family dinner conversation,” Dean smiled. “Let’s just say that I keep my private life private. The only reason that you know is because you caught my slip up. It’s not something I’m ashamed of. I’m just not the type of person who normally goes full disclosure. I don’t ask my family or Benny and Lisa what happens in their bedroom, and they don’t need to know what happens in mine.”

“I feel like I should be more surprised.”

“Why?”

“I have no idea,” Cas smiled. “Maybe because I’m slowly learning that how we view people in high school is superficial. In the back of our minds we don’t expect them to change, they will always be who we saw walking down the halls every day with a backpack over their shoulder.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“I guess you could. But what about the others? I mean, what are Benny and Lisa like?”

“Benny is still a good ol’ boy with a heart of gold. But, that fucker is smart. He’s running a business, he’s actually turning it around. He’s part of the Small Business Association. After the twins were born he joined the committee to rebuild the park, even donated materials and time to do it. Lately he’s been talking about local politics. Lisa does PR and Marketing. She does a lot of it remotely…”

“Ah, so she feels our pain.”

“Yeah, but neither one of us has a set of four year old twins running around while we work. I know that they would do anything for me, and the feeling is mutual.”

“How do you think they’d feel about...you know?”

“You can say the word bisexual,” Dean smiled. “I honestly don’t know. I’d like to think that we have enough history and that they are open minded enough that it wouldn’t even matter. I just don’t talk about it because they finally stopped asking about my private life. Unless you count the endless jokes about my broken heart when our youthful engagement was called off or my fairly consistent complaining about the mom guilt.”

“We all suffer the mom guilt. My parents knew about April. Hell, they knew April. I even took her home to meet the family. I keep hearing that it’s been years and it’s time to move on.”

“But you haven’t been able to?”

“It’s not something that I really think about. It’s not something that I really want to think about.”

“Sorry, man…” Dean said quietly. “I didn’t want to drudge up…”

“No, it’s fine. People talk about college and I think the young love relationships inevitably come up in conversation. Were you…”

“In love? I don’t know. I mean, I felt something, but I wasn’t really hurt when it ended. Like you said, it was civil. I could move on, but I don’t have enough time to offer a guy or girl. I could never give myself to anyone. It wouldn’t be fair, and I know that. How did this conversation get so serious?”

“I believe we started talking about college.”

“With the intention of the dirty details about partying and raising hell,” Dean grinned. “So you’re okay with the whole…”

“As long as you don’t get too close to my royal scribe. I can’t deal with a broken hearted royal scribe. I might have to ask the royal chef to drag the moat. I worry that cross contamination might become an issue.”

“I thought that you had the enemy situation under control?”

“Yeah, but under tipped barista’s can be pretty brutal.”

“Then don’t be so fucking cheap. Think about the time it takes to make the little heart in the foam on an espresso. Don’t they deserve something extra for the artistic attempt?”

“Yeah,” Cas sighed. “They probably do.”

\--------------------

Dean laid in bed, still a little tipsy from the scotch, and a lot overwhelmed by the conversation. He’d told Cas that it was okay to say bisexual, but it was the first time that he’d actually said it when referring to himself. He he’d never lied, he wasn’t ashamed. It was a part of who he was and he’d never questioned it. He wasn’t questioning it now, he just didn’t know if he felt liberated or somehow exposed. Their banter had continued to flow until Dean couldn’t stop yawning and Cas reached for the blanket that he’d neatly folded and laid over the arm of the couch the night before. 

\--------------------

“Morning,” Dean smiled when Cas sat up and gratefully took the hot cup of coffee out of his hand. “So, do you want to go back for day two of the convention? Or was one day enough?”

“Honestly, one day was enough.”

“One day and you are done with conventions?”

“No. One day and I’m done with that convention. It was definitely eye opening, but I saw everything that I wanted to see.”

“Um, okay. Well do you have to get back home?”

“Depends on whether or not I get a better offer,” Cas finally smiled.

“I have absolutely nothing to offer other than the Dean Winchester tour of Seattle. I can go the extremely cheesy route and take you to Pike Place and the Space Needle.”

“I’ve never seen either.”

“Well, I suggest showers and then we can go grab some breakfast.”

\--------------------

They spent the next two days wandering around the city. Dean showed Cas the touristy sites, and some not so touristy sites. They went to dinner and bars, talked and laughed, and Cas felt almost melancholy when he pulled away from the quick hug and got into his car.

\--------------------

They talked, texted, or emailed almost daily. Dean bounced ideas off of Cas, Cas gave up on talking about his own career. Cas still snuck in references to royalty, and Dean laughed every time. Cas started to secretly write; a blog, a journal, an autobiography. He started to understand the catharsis, the unburdening. His view of High School had been altered, his relationship with April, how he saw himself. At times he wondered how Dean saw him, what it was that drew Dean to him. He knew that it wasn’t physical. They’d seen each other coming out of the bathroom with towels wrapped loosely around their hips after a hot shower. They’d played soccer and ended up with their bodies intertwined in the grass. None of it was sexual. But Dean’s intensity only served to make his sensitivity more profound. Cas saw both sides. Dean let Cas see both sides. They no longer used the premise of a workshop or convention to drive the 175 miles that stretched between them. 

\--------------------

_“I’m going to Chicago.”_

_“Wouldn’t be my first choice for a vacation spot. Although, I read that they no longer have the highest murder rate in the nation, so there’s that.”_

Dean looked at his phone and shook his head. He saved the texts between them because Cas’s sarcasm could make him smile when nothing else could.

_“Not my first choice either. It’s work related.”_

_“Models?”_

_“Unfortunately, no. Fortunately there is an amateur art exhibit.”_

_“Well, either way I am very very happy for you.”_

_“You should come with me.”_ Dean hit send and sighed. He was surprised when his phone rang.

“Hello your royal highness.”

“Oh I love it when you use cutesy pet names.”

“That you created,” Dean chuckled.

“So, why would you want me to come to Chicago with you?”

“Have you ever been?”

“Well, no,” Cas chuckled. “I can go back over my bucket list, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t on there.”

“Flights are cheap right now. I know you are in the middle of a project, but we’d only be there a few days and you can work on your laptop while I’m doing interviews.”

“Is this before or after you drag me around an art exhibit?”

“Either one, I’m flexible. Drive up here and we can just fly out of Sea-Tac.”

“Again, why would you want me to come with you?”

“You sit in your apartment and work. You never go anywhere.”

“Hey, that is not true. I’ve been up there what, four times now? And, I went to Lawrence a couple of weeks ago.”

“Okay, less than 200 miles traveled does not technically qualify as a vacation. Going to your uncle’s funeral definitely does not qualify as a vacation.”

“So Chicago is a vacation?”

“If I said Hawaii would you be more interested?”

“I’d have my bags packed.”

“There are some nice parts of Chicago,” Dean laughed. “They just don’t normally show them on the news. This is your opportunity to see those nice parts. Now update your bucket list and call me back.”

“You drive me crazy,” Cas smiled into the phone.

“But I’ve made your life more interesting. Call me back.”

Cas shook his head when Dean abruptly ended the call. This is how things worked with Dean. He was stubborn, borderline impossible, and he could talk Cas into almost anything.

 _“Book the flights.”_ Cas set his phone down on his desk, turning back to the project that he was working on.

\--------------------

Cas tried to keep up, he didn’t know how Dean so easily moved through a crowded airport. It must be experience. They finally walked through the doors, the warm humid air hitting their faces, and Cas followed Dean to a Lyft that would take them to their hotel. He sat in the back and listened as Dean talked easily from the passenger seat. He had the driver engaged. He was using his charm and wit, and this was a side of Dean that always made Cas laugh. This wasn’t the sensitive and insightful friend that he drank mid grade scotch with, this was the charismatic writer always looking to learn, to find the heart of the story, any story. He watched the perfect profile, full lips, smattering of freckles, and charming grin. It worked. He was unfairly good looking with an easy way about him. This was ‘public Dean’ and Cas found some satisfaction in knowing that he saw another side.

\--------------------

“C’mon princess, there is a lot more to see.”

“I’m pacing myself,” Cas muttered, enthralled by the pencil sketch. It was a map, the destinations were emotions and common life experiences, the faint specter of clock in the background. So faint that it was nearly indiscernible. “This is…”

“Relatable?”

“I guess,” Cas said quietly, feeling Dean’s body heat behind him. “It’s about expectations. What we are supposed to experience, how we are supposed to feel about those experiences, and we have to consolidate it all into one lifetime. But the journey...the path is ours to decide. If I feel fear, there is a direct route or there are places to stop that will get me there. The choice is mine.” He barely felt Dean wrap his hands gently around his shoulders and squeeze. 

“I’ll be wandering around. Come find me when you’re ready and we’ll go get something for lunch,” he said softly, squeezing Cas’s shoulders again before he walked away. He stopped and looked back, Cas’s stance, the bewilderment in his posture wasn’t something that he’d forget.

\--------------------

“Did you get your interviews?”

“Some of them,” Dean mumbled with his mouth full. “It’s just art students and professors.”

“What’s the premise of this one?”

“Have we lost faith in the arts. Have our minds become so digitalized that we don’t see beauty in what is created by hand. These students worked for hours, days, weeks on these pieces but there are programs and apps that can replicate them, or come close to replicating them. That’s not to say that digital or graphic artists aren’t legitimate. I respect them just as much. There’s just a vast difference in the experience.”

“For the viewer or creator?”

“Creator. I mean, maybe for the viewer, but that’s not my angle. A lot of these students use both methods, and that’s what fascinates me. When does it become necessary for them to switch from one medium to the other? What is the thought process?”

“Do you have to go back today?”

“I have one interview later, but it’s at the college. We can go back to the exhibit tomorrow if you want to.”

“And miss out on the skydeck at the Willis Tower? I don’t think so.”

“You seriously want to stand on that?”

“What? You aren’t interested in standing on a chunk of glass on the 103rd floor of a skyscraper?”

“Not really,” Dean chuckled. “But I will.”

\--------------------

Cas heard the light knock and turned the doorknob, opening the door slightly. “Come on in. I just have to throw on my socks and shoes and then we can find somewhere to grab a drink.” He was digging through his bag when he saw Dean set something on the chair in his periphery. He stood slowly, a pair of socks in his hand, and felt it in his chest. He swallowed hard and turned his head, looking at Dean but unable to speak. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him, addled with emotion. “How did you? I mean I thought that amateur meant…”

“I didn’t pay for it,” Dean smiled, running his hands up and down Cas’s back slowly. “You tell someone that their work moved somebody, that’s what a true artist wants. It doesn’t hurt when you offer them press. I don’t think that she really cared about that part, but I saw some of her other work and she’s amazing. But this, this is the piece that I wanted,” he said quietly.

“Honestly, nobody has ever done anything like this for me.”

“Well,” Dean pulled away when Cas started to relax his arms. “Somebody should have.” He purposely averted his eyes when he heard Cas’s subtle sniffle and felt when Cas turned around to sit on the bed and put his socks on. “So one of the professors told me about this great pub downtown. Apparently they serve the best greasy burgers in the city. I thought that we could check it out.”

“Uh yeah, sounds good,” Cas said thickly. “Let me just get my shoes on and we can go.”

“No problem. I’ll just call Lyft and get a car here.”

\--------------------

Cas sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the picture. They hadn’t talked about it over dinner. He nodded when Dean casually mentioned that he should probably have it shipped home. But, he couldn’t stop staring at it. He knew that it was over the top when he’d been drawn to tears, when he’d told Dean that nobody had ever done anything like this for him. He could picture Dean, those green eyes and that perfect smile, telling an art student that he wanted the drawing. He finished his drink and climbed under the blankets, turning off the lamp.

\--------------------

“Seriously?” Cas laughed. “You aren’t going to do this?”

“103 stories up, not my thing.”

“A fear of heights? Really?”

“More like a fear of falling from very tall places. There’s a difference.”

“Not really,” Cas smiled, wrapping his fingers around Dean’s wrist and pulling him onto the glass. “You don’t have to look down.”

“How can I not? This is fucking terrifying. It would be just my luck if this were the moment when the unbreakable glass decided to give off a big ‘fuck you’ and break.”

“At least you’d die in good company,” Cas chuckled, unconscious of the fact that his fingers were still wrapped around Dean’s wrist in a way that was protective, reassuring.

“That’s supposed to make me feel better? That at least I wouldn’t plummet to my death alone?”

“Hey, it’s all I’ve got.”

“Are we done here? Have you seen enough of the city from a freakishly high point of view.”

“I wish we’d done this at night.”

“Okay, I’m going to agree with you there. At least the path to death would be cloaked in darkness.”

“Are writers always this dramatic?”

“Yes, yes we are. Can we go?”

“Fine,” Cas chuckled. “Let’s go see what else Chicago has to offer.”

\--------------------

This was the moment that Dean always hated, watching Cas’s car pull out of his parking lot. He stood, rooted in place until the taillights disappeared. Once he’d said the word, finally told somebody about his sexuality, he did away with all pretenses. Cas saw him for who he was. They’d spent nights drinking and laughing about where he’d been. He’d told stories about some of the ugly side of humanity that he had seen. But, nothing ever changed. Cas still sent sarcastic texts, sent even more sarcastic emails, read his articles and gave his honest opinion. He’d learned that Cas wasn’t capable of deception, it all showed in those bluer than blue eyes. That’s all it took, one look into those eyes and he knew everything that Cas was feeling. That’s why he’d looked away when Cas saw the drawing. He needed to give Cas that moment alone.

\--------------------

Dean lifted his head and watched Cas work. He smiled at the drawing that hung over his desk. “Don’t you have a deadline?” Cas asked without turning around.

“Yes, but I’m almost done. Tell me again why you invited me down here if we’re both just going to work.”

“I thought that I’d have this project done and you didn’t tell me when your copy needed to be into the editor. You have your feet on the coffee table don’t you?”

“Yes, but my shoes are off,” Dean smiled. 

Cas stared at the email. He’d opened it, but only had it showing on his laptop screen, not the large monitors that Dean could easily see. He took a deep breath and started to read.

\--------------------

 _“Cas,_  
_I don’t know if you still use this email address, but it’s the only one that I have. I’m guessing that I am the last person you expected to hear from, and you are probably wondering why. I still have a clear memory of the day that I walked out of our apartment. I was afraid, Cas. I knew that you were going to ask me to marry you, and I was afraid. We were so young and not ready, but I loved you. Never doubt that I loved you. I eventually did get married, but less than a year after the wedding I found myself comparing him to you. The way that he treated me, the way that he spoke to me, the way that he touched me, it never felt right. I know that what we had was a lifetime ago, and you’ve probably moved on. I just needed you to know that walking away was the biggest mistake I have ever made. I’m sorry, Cas. I hope that wherever you are, that you are truly happy. I don’t know that I could have given you the happiness that you deserve, but I regret giving up._

 _Love,_  
_April”_

\--------------------

“Okay,” Dean grunted, swinging his feet off of the coffee table when he heard the knock. “I’ll take care of the pizza guy but you are officially in charge of beer.” He picked his wallet up and answered the door, exchanging niceties and throwing a charming grin when he took the pizza from the kid’s hands. He set it on the coffee table and turned around. “You are dedicated to that project if you are willing to sit there rather than eat pizza and drink beer. Especially since I believe that it is your turn to choose a movie.”

“Uh yeah...sorry. I just found a complication, but I can deal with it later. I’ll grab the drinks, and the genre of the evening will be horror.”

“Of course it will,” Dean mumbled, his mouth already full of food.

\--------------------

Cas watched Dean sleeping on his couch and listened to his soft snore. He took his laptop off of the dock as quietly as he could and carried it with him into the bedroom. He read the email, he re-read the email. His brain was screaming 'delete'. What he saw in front of him, those words, he’d spent years wanting to hear them. A part of him had always held out hope, waited for this day. He’d recently written in his blog/journal/autobiography about college, about her. It had been filled with resentment and regret. And he had asked himself what he would do if he ever saw her again. Now here she was, right in front of him. He silently walked into the living room, cursing the squeaky hardwood floorboards of the old apartment. He didn’t want to wake Dean up when he reached for the scotch. He didn’t bother to grab a glass, he knew that he would just drink straight from the bottle.

\--------------------

 _“April,_  
_Happiness is subjective. I have found peace, possibly contentment, maybe that’s my happiness. You were right, you are the last person that I expected to hear from. The probability of this response reaching you directly correlates to the amount of alcohol that I have consumed, and I may either regret sending it, or I won’t send it at all. Other than turning my head away when I caught small glimpses of you walking across the quad, my last memory is of your back, your final words spoken to me, “I can’t do this anymore, Cas”. I never did understand what it was that you couldn’t do. Not too long ago a friend and I talked about college. Inevitably the conversation turned to relationships and I felt this surge of jealousy when he told me that his college affair ended with civility. I know that I wouldn’t be the man that I am today if I hadn’t followed the path that had been laid out before me. But, I’m proud to be this man. We all have regrets, we wonder ‘what if’. But, what do we do with that? I don’t know. What I do know is that it has been six years since I left that campus, and all that came with it. I expected that you had done the same. I don’t know what motivated you to contact me, I don’t what is motivating me to write this. I suppose we will find out if the scotch motivates me to actually send it._

_Cas”_

\--------------------

“Wake up sunshine.”

Dean opened one eye and hoped it was enough to translate into a glare. He groaned and pulled the blanket over his head.

“I come bearing caffeine,” Cas chuckled, setting a mug on the coffee table and moving Dean’s legs so that he could sit on the couch. Dean groaned again and moved his legs back across Cas’s lap. 

“Why are you torturing me by waking me up so fucking early?” Dean murmured.

“It’s 9:00am, it’s not that early. I thought that you wanted to go get breakfast.”

“What, is the royal chef dragging the moat?” Dean yawned, finally sitting up. “What else is on the agenda?”

“Well, we can either hang out here and work, or we can actually venture into the real world.”

“Who says this isn’t the real world,” Dean muttered, taking a sip of the hot coffee.

“Well, we can go let me kick your ass at soccer drills, catch a movie, undertip baristas and eavesdrop on hipsters.”

“You know that’s just creepy, right?”

“Yes. Your grumpy ass needs to drink more coffee. I’ll go jump in the shower.”

Dean shook his head and gave Cas a dismissive wave when he got up off of the couch. 

\--------------------

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Cas looked up from his plate. “Why?”

“I don’t know, you seem distracted. Either that, or the internal battle on whether to eat your eggs or your bacon first is real.”

“I’m just tired.”

“I noticed that you didn’t sleep alone last night,” Dean grinned.

“What?” Cas asked slowly.

“The bottle of scotch? I saw it on your nightstand when I came out of the bathroom. Nightcaps alone? They say that’s the first step towards alcohol becoming problematic.”

“Not problematic,” Cas smiled weakly. “Just unable to sleep.”

“You need to learn how to shut your brain off before bed. Think of happy things like puppy dogs or your bank account after you finish a project.”

“Yeah, shutting my brain off would be nice,” Cas sighed. Closing his laptop before sending the email had been easy, but the memories were still there. The look on her face, a look that he would never understand. Now he knew that understanding it, understanding her reasoning, wasn’t necessary. He had no more questions, he didn’t need answers. It was time to let go.

\--------------------

Cas looked at Dean and shook his head slowly. “You want to go where?”

“The zoo.”

“Why the zoo?”

“Because we haven’t been and I’m feeling inexplicably juvenile today. Who says that two adult males cannot enjoy looking at animals?”

“This is because you said ‘puppies’ at breakfast isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Dean shrugged.

“You know that by the time we leave you’ll be upset because they are all being held in captivity?”

“Maybe,” Dean grinned. “We’ve done the movie thing. We’ve done the soccer thing. I don’t think that either one of us really wants to sit at your place and work. I want to be outside not thinking about art or people or computers. It’s semi-mindless and a good distraction.”

“Distraction from what?”

“From whatever is on your mind that you don’t want to talk about. Let’s go.”

\--------------------

Cas barely noticed Dean’s hand as it was pressed to his lower back when they walked through doorways. Dean barely noticed Cas’s fingers wrap around his wrist when he wanted to show him something. The feeling of the other’s body heat had become familiar when they stood close.

Dean’s smile finally broke Cas, and he shut off his brain. He let go of everything that was on his computer at home; work, emails. They walked for hours, Dean slowly building up to his diatribe about the unfairness of animals as objects on display rather than being allowed to live in the wild. Cas had to hide his smile when they finally got in the car.

\--------------------

Cas saw that he’d left his email open, he hadn’t deleted April’s message. He read it again and ran his hands up his face.

“Work?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, closing his laptop and setting it on the dock. “I didn’t get much done this weekend.”

“Too many distractions?” Dean smiled.

“Probably. You out of here?”

“Yeah, I have a meeting tomorrow afternoon.”

“Text or call when you get home,” Cas said, wrapping one arm around Dean’s shoulders. “Drive safe, be careful.”

“You should know me better than that. I drive fast and take chances. I’ll let you know when I get back to my little slice of heaven.” They ended the hug and Dean picked up his duffle bag, giving Cas a small wink before he shut the door behind him.

\--------------------

Cas had finished his project and he was restless. He wanted to go to Seattle, but Dean was in SoCal at the UCLA symposium. Cas knew that he wanted to spend time with his brother and he’d be gone for at least a week. He fought the temptation to call him, tried not to text him, and didn’t bother to email him. He finally sat down and stared at his computer. He read April’s email one last time before he deleted it. He could no longer hide behind the lingering pain of his first love walking out. There was no pain. He was unburdened and content. He pulled up what he had come to think of as his journal and started typing. 

\--------------------

“Hey,” Dean grinned when he opened the door and wrapped his arms around Cas.

“How was Cali?” 

“It was good. I love that symposium, I wish you could have been there.” Dean stepped back and let Cas into the apartment. 

“And your brother?”

“Oh, he’s good. Still hasn’t impregnated his wife again which means I still have to suffer through the mom guilt about not giving her more grandchildren. But, Sam’s a pain the in the ass, Jess is sweet, and the kids are adorable. Especially after I pumped them full of sugar and let them loose,” Dean smiled, his eyes bright. “So, you’re between projects?”

“Yeah,” Cas sighed, dropping his bag and taking his spot on the couch. “I submitted my info for one a few days ago. I’m not sure when I’ll hear back. Sometimes they can outsource from overseas and it’s cheaper labor.”

“But your work is better,” Dean handed Cas a drink and sat down next to him.

“I’d like to think that it is, but it’s not art, it’s science. They tell me what they want, I build it per their specifications,” Cas yawned, leaning his head against Dean’s shoulder.

“I’m guessing we’re going to order take out?” Dean chuckled. “Or I can cook.”

“You cook?” Cas turned his head. “All of these months that you’ve been forcing me to eat food from restaurants, and you can cook?”

“I’m not a royal chef, but I can throw something together if you’re too tired to go anywhere.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Cas said quietly, leaning against Dean’s shoulder again. “I just need a minute to unwind.”

“Do you want to just hit up that deli?”

“Sure,” Cas murmured. Dean grinned when he heard the even breaths. He took the glass out of Cas’s hand and set it on the coffee table before it could spill. He reached for the remote and found a movie, hoping that Cas didn’t drool on him in his sleep.

\--------------------

“Hello sleeping beauty.”

“Did I seriously fall asleep sitting up?”

“Well, other than using my shoulder as a pillow, yes. At least you didn’t drool on me.”

“How long?”

“Only about 45 minutes,” Dean chuckled. “Normally the drive doesn’t wear you out.”

“Haven’t been sleeping well,” Cas yawned. “Did you say something about the deli?”

“Do you feel up to it?”

“Yeah,” Cas stood up and stretched. “Sleep has been taken care of. Now hunger is rearing it’s ugly head.”

\--------------------

“So, I uh got my foot in the door.”

“Your foot in the door?”

“Symposiums,” Dean shrugged, taking a bite of his sandwich.

“They are unleashing you and setting you loose on the eastern half of the United States?”

“Yep.”

“So when do you go?”

“The day after tomorrow. How much did you pack?”

“What?” Cas set his sandwich down and lifted his eyes.

“How much did you pack? I leave for New York the day after tomorrow. The college paid for my plane ticket. I paid for yours.”

“Wait, what?” 

Dean wanted to laugh at Cas’s confusion when he leaned back in his chair looked at him almost suspiciously. “You’ve never been and you’re between projects. I have enough frequent flyer miles that the plane ticket was dirt cheap. They told me to book a room and they would reimburse me, so I booked two. It was presumptuous as hell, but I know that you have nothing going on workwise. Is New York on your bucket list?”

“Well yeah, I mean isn’t it on most people’s?”

“Probably,” Dean chuckled. “So come with me and cross it off. You already took care of the ‘hang out with the popular kids’ dream. I know that you added ‘stand next to formerly popular kid 103 stories up while he’s trying not to lose his shit’, but you were able to cross that one off. Here’s your chance for another one. I’m going to be stuck in that city for days by myself.”

“You were stuck in Europe for months by yourself.”

“Yeah, because I didn’t have anyone to go with me.”

“Do I have to pretend to be a writer?”

“Only if you want to suffer through another symposium,” Dean smiled. “So are you going to leave me fucked with a non refundable plane ticket and the possibility of paying for a hotel room that won’t get used?”

“So what you’re saying is that because you were presumptuous, I would actually be doing you a service by going?”

“Pretty much,” Dean nodded, calmly continuing to eat and fighting the urge to laugh. 

“The sacrifices I make for close personal acquaintances,” Cas finally smiled.

\--------------------

Cas was rummaging through his bag, taking stock of what he had brought with him. “I have like three days worth of clothes, all jeans, t-shirts, and hoodies.”

“It’s not like you’ll need a tux,” Dean called from the bedroom. “We’re almost the same size. I’ll pack extra and you can borrow, except for boxers. We will go buy you some boxers tonight.”

“Wuss,” Cas muttered.

“I heard that.”

“So what time does the plane leave?”

“2:00am. We have about an hour and a half layover in Chicago. We’ll make it to LaGuardia around noonish their time.”

“That’s a long fucking time to be on an airplane.”

“Try flying to Europe. But you have proven that you are adept at sleeping sitting up, so you should be fine,” Dean smiled, dropping his bag on the floor next to Cas. 

“I can’t believe that I’m going to New York at the last minute.”

“It’s not the last minute. You’ve known about it for a solid 36 hours now.”

“Is this how life as your friend is always going to be?”

“Possibly,” Dean shrugged. 

“Well, all I have to offer is 24/7 computer troubleshooting.”

“Hey, that may be far more important than trips to big cities.”

“More useful anyway,” Cas grinned. “I guess we should go to the store?”

“Unless you are a going commando type of guy.”

“Not when there is a zipper involved. Let’s go.”

\--------------------

They took turns sleeping, but the flight was exhausting. The ride into the city was exhausting. They were frustrated when they were told that their hotel rooms weren’t ready. Dean convinced the man at the front desk to hold their bags while they walked around the city. Dean had always been there looking for the story. He’d never taken the time to enjoy it. They had both been to L.A., they’d been to Chicago just a few months ago, but New York felt different. 

They lost track of time. They finally realized that they hadn’t eaten since their layover in Chicago and found a small Italian restaurant near the hotel.

\--------------------

“You know, I haven’t thanked you.”

“You might not want to jump the gun, we haven’t tasted the food yet,” Dean smiled, resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands. The light was dim, probably for ambience, but he could still see everything in Cas’s eyes.

“You know what I mean. This, Chicago, walking around a horror convention with me; not everybody would do those things for a friend.”

“Well,” Dean sighed. “I have the means, but I don’t have a whole lot of friends.”

“You have Benny and Lisa.”

“Who are married with two children and live in Kansas. And it’s not just that. They don’t really know me. I mean, they know me, they have since we were kids. They don’t understand me or see the way I live my life. Lisa reads the articles, she sees the final product and she calls to tell me how amazing it was. She hasn’t seen the process. Benny probably doesn’t even read the articles, he has his own shit going on. I’m guessing that he gets a summary from Lisa over dinner. I’m fine with that, I get it. They remember the kid who walked around the halls with a backpack on his shoulder. They hear that I spent two months in Europe for a story and they picture nice hotels and models in lingerie. It wasn’t like that. It was cheap hotels and exhausted women who had spent too much time believing that their self worth comes from what a camera sees. A lot of them still believe it. Sure, it was insightful, but it was sad. There was nothing glamorous about it. You know, Benny and Lisa keep promising to come visit me in Seattle, but I don’t know that I really want them to.”

“Why?”

“My life, it isn’t what they think it is. I tell them bits and pieces, the bits and pieces that they will understand and find interesting. They want to believe that one of us got out of that town and is living the high life. Who am I to let them down? Why shouldn’t they believe it?”

“So you think that they’d be disappointed?” Cas asked, nodding at the waiter when he set their plates down.

“Maybe,” Dean shrugged. “Yeah, I want to be that Pulitzer Prize winner, but there is a way to get there and I know my place.”

“I don’t know that you do.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t stay in one place,” Cas smiled. “We spend months going out to eat, ordering in, playing soccer, going to movies, and then you decide that you want to go to the Portland Zoo. You text me and tell me that you want me to come to Chicago with you, and then you pretend that you have to do an interview just so that you can go back and talk an art student out of a drawing. I show up at your apartment and you have two plane tickets to New York. I mean, what’s next? I never know with you.”

“I never really know either,” Dean chuckled. “Even if my time in Europe wasn’t glamorous, even though I did end up bitching about the animals at the zoo, even when I gave in and stood on that fucking piece of glass, it was all an experience.”

“That you can write about.”

“Parts of it, yeah. I’m not going to go out and shop an expose about a writer who had to let his best friend hold on to him because he wouldn’t admit that he is, in fact, afraid of heights.”

“You don’t think that Lisa would love that?”

“She knows that I’m afraid of heights. She used to make fun of me on the playground because I wouldn’t climb to the top of the monkey bars.”

“You two had quite the dysfunctional relationship.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed. “I guess it was doomed from the beginning.”

“It seems like most love stories are.”

Dean lifted his eyes and searched Cas’s face, “Maybe most, but not all.”

“No, not all. I’d like to believe that it’s possible.”


	3. The turn in the path

“This is unbelievable.”

“I’ve seen it before,” Dean mumbled, opening the new bottle of mid grade scotch.

“Yeah, but from here? From this exact angle? These lights and these colors?”

“Well, no,” Dean smiled, walking towards the balcony. Cas was conscious of the body heat when Dean stopped behind him. He took the drink that was offered and let his body relax. “You’re right,” Cas felt Dean’s whisper, his warm breath against his ear. “I haven’t seen it like this before. Look,” he pointed, his arm reaching over Cas’s shoulder, drink in hand. “The Empire State Building, I’ve never stopped long enough to see it lit up like that.”

“New York at night.”

“A lot different than New York during the day,” Dean chuckled, closing his eyes when he felt Cas’s back press lightly against his chest. 

“During the day you see the energy, at night you see the beauty. The lights, the lines of taxi cabs, I’ve honestly never experienced anything like it.”

“It is memorable,” Dean whispered, pressing his hand lightly to Cas’s stomach. He felt the taut muscles through the thin t-shirt, muscles that he already knew were there. He felt Cas’s body weight against his and took a deep breath before gently touching his lips to Cas’s temple. He felt the stirring in his stomach when Cas tilted his head back, resting it on his shoulder.

“You’ve done this before…” It was a statement, not a question.

“But not like this,” Dean whispered. “Everything before this moment has led up to this, and I think that we’ve both felt it.” He ran his lips softly down Cas’s neck, wrapping his arm around his waist to pull him close. “I didn’t ask you to come with me so that I could seduce you in a hotel room. I want you to see my world, to experience it, to be a part of it. That beauty and energy, I want you to feel those things.” Cas turned slowly in Dean’s arms and waited, finally feeling the full lips against his. Dean slid his hand up the side of Cas’s face and kissed him with a tender passion. “I got two rooms for a reason,” he said softly. “I will set this drink down right now and go sleep in a bed with a wall separating us, if that’s what you want.” His thumb gently trailed across Cas’s cheekbone. “We can pretend like this never happened.”

“No we can’t,” Cas said quietly . “Because you’re right, everything before this moment has been leading up to this.” He felt the subtle shiver when he reached for Dean’s hand and interlaced their fingers. He let Dean lead him into the room and set their drinks on the table, surprised when he sat in a chair and gently pulled Cas onto his lap. “I can take you to that bed, but this may be the only time that this will happen and I need to make it last,” Dean said quietly, sliding his hands up the back of Cas’s shirt. Cas reached for the hem and pulled it over his head, meeting Dean’s eyes as his hands moved across Cas’s body, his fingers tracing the subtle ridges of muscle. He pushed at Dean’s shirt, dropping it onto the floor, pressing their bare chests together when he leaned in to kiss Dean softly. Their lips parted, tongues moving slowly, Dean’s hands running down his back to cup his ass. He was growing hard, painfully hard against his zipper. “God, you are beautiful,” Dean murmured. Cas took in the scent, the taste of his skin when he ran his mouth down Dean’s neck and across his shoulder. He’d never wanted anything more than he wanted Dean at that moment. They kissed and touched, Cas sliding his hand between them to run his palm against Dean’s hard length through the layer of denim, eliciting a moan. “C’mon,” he said quietly, climbing off of Dean’s lap and holding his hand out. 

He stood silently and still between Dean’s legs, watching as he sat on the edge of the bed and trailed his lips across Cas’s stomach. His green eyes lifted, waiting for the imperceptible nod before he deftly worked the button and zipper, slowly pushing Cas’s pants and boxers down his thighs. Cas’s eyes closed when Dean’s fingers wrapped around him, swirling his tongue around the head of his cock while he stroked. His fingertips were running through Dean’s hair, his stomach beginning to tighten when Dean took him into his mouth and slid his rough tongue up his silky shaft. His breaths were shallow, he was trying not to come yet. He pulled away and kicked his pants off, climbing onto the bed. Dean stood and stripped slowly, knowing that Cas was watching, knowing that he was appreciating his body in a way that he never expected to. He crawled between Cas’s legs and intertwined their fingers, holding Cas’s hands to the mattress. Their hips were rocking of their own accord, velvet skin covered in a fine sheen of sweat, a friction against the hardness trapped between their bodies. Cas’s legs spread and his body arched, needy when he felt Dean’s lips on his own. They kissed deeply and moved slowly, Dean finally releasing Cas’s almost numb hands to run up his sides and down his back, pressing them against the natural dip. Their eyes locked, green on blue, when Dean pulled himself up on his forearms, rocking faster. Cas could see the hunger, Dean could see the need. Cas’s body was trembling while Dean’s lips sucked, his teeth nipped, at the tender skin of his neck. His thighs pressed against Dean’s hips when he felt the throbbing. He could smell the musk, the raw sex, their scent, when he cried out, his chest heaving. He heard the guttural groan and wrapped his arms around Dean, pulling him close. Dean was panting, resting his sweaty forehead against Cas’s shoulder. Cas reached over and trailed his fingers softly down the side of his perfect face. “Are you okay?” Dean turned his head and smiled. “I’m better than okay.” They kissed slowly, long and languidly, until Dean’s body weight and heat became too much and he rolled on his back, reaching for Cas’s hand. He pulled it to his lips, pressing them against each knuckle. Cas rolled on his side and held himself up on one elbow, dipping his head to kiss him again. He needed him to know that whatever it was that he was feeling, Cas felt it too. “Shower?” Dean finally grinned. “I think we probably need one,” Cas chuckled, kissing him quickly and following him out of bed.

\--------------------

“So about that wall between the two rooms,” Dean said, running soapy hands across Cas’s stomach.

“You want to know if we’re going to share a bed?”

“I um...I don’t want to make assumptions.”

“So stay. Pour more drinks and follow me to the balcony again. Forget about what is on the other side of that wall.”

They kissed passionately under the warm water.

\--------------------

“I really didn’t bring you here for this,” Dean said quietly, trailing his fingers up and down Cas’s arm. 

“I know you didn’t,” Cas murmured, feeling Dean’s heartbeat from where his head lay on his chest. “But we would have ended up here anyway. Maybe not in this bed in this hotel, but this was going to happen.”

Dean pressed his lips to Cas’s damp hair and pulled him closer. “I don’t want you to regret this, Cas.”

“I don’t. I won’t. Like you said, everything had been leading up to this. You were right, it has nothing to do with anatomy and everything to do with how I feel when I am with you, how I feel when I am not with you. I missed you when you were in L.A. It didn’t make sense because we go weeks without seeing one another, but that week was different. I couldn’t just get in my car and drive a few hours to be with you. I couldn’t call you or text you…”

“Yes you could have. Look at me.” Cas tilted his head and saw those beautiful green eyes. “You can call or text me anytime you want, it doesn’t matter where I am. I don’t know what this is, but I know that I would not have gone back to get that picture for anyone else. I don’t think that you would have blindly stepped onto an airplane for anyone else. You know when my feet are on your coffee table without even looking. You knew that I would end up getting upset about the animals in captivity at the zoo, but you were fine with it because it’s what I wanted and you were ready to talk me down.” Dean dipped his head and kissed Cas softly, letting their lips part, their tongues slide together.

“I’m just sorry,” Cas whispered.

“About what?”

“That it took ten years to find this.”

“It was worth the wait,” Dean said quietly.

\--------------------

The jet lag, the hours spent walking around the city, the emotional exhaustion finally set in and they turned off the lamp. The room became a cacophony of even breaths and soft snoring.

\--------------------

Cas didn’t question it when he rolled over and felt Dean’s hard body next to his. He slowly slid his hand across the toned chest and flat stomach. He pressed his lips to Dean’s shoulder and smiled when he felt the strong arms wrap around him. He leaned his head back and searched for Dean's eyes in the dark. He felt Dean lean over to dig through his bag then roll on his back, pulling Cas on top of him. They were unhurried, kissing slowly, their hands drifting. Cas moved almost blindly down Dean’s body, tasting his skin. He pulled a sensitive nipple between his lips and gently bit, feeling the shiver it elicited. His fingers roamed, his mouth trailed until he wrapped his hand around Dean’s cock. He unashamedly slid his tongue up the silky shaft, taking the head in his mouth to softly suck. He closed his eyes and hummed, dipping his head, knowing how good it felt. Dean’s hips subtly lifted and a low moan escaped his chest. Cas didn’t know that it could be like this, that a man could taste so good. He hollowed his cheeks and moved his head up and down until he felt Dean fumbling to find his hand. “Here…” he whispered, handing Cas the small bottle. Cas was silent, unsure of how this worked, but unwilling to ask. He needed to make love to his best friend, not a sex ed lesson. The click of the cap broke the silence until Cas ran a slick finger between Dean’s cheeks and pressed it against his hole. “Oh yeah,” Dean panted. “Just like that…” Cas slipped it slowly inside, moving his hand back and forth, adding a second finger. He felt the smooth spot and heard the gasp. His smile was slow when he rubbed gently, using a third finger to stretch while he dripped lube on his cock. He pulled his fingers out and buried himself slowly, needing Dean to feel every inch. He stopped to let their bodies adjust, to keep himself from coming. Dean was tight around him, his heart was already pounding. Dean was touching himself, he could feel it when he reached out and pushed his hand away, running his fingers down the rigid shaft, squeezing and slowly stroking. Dean’s body was coming alive when he started to rock, shifting his hips until Dean groaned and spread his legs wider. His thrusts were slow and deep. He moved his hand and replaced it with his body, pressing their chests together, Dean’s cock trapped between their stomachs, their sultry skin sweeping along his hard length. They found one another in the dark, their lips meeting and parting, tongues sliding together. Cas was dizzy, he’d never felt like this before. His body was tense when Dean’s trembling thighs slid against his hips. Dean’s fingers were digging into his shoulders, his back, his ass. “Dean…” he whispered, his breath catching when he felt his stomach tighten. “Let go, baby. I’m right there.” Cas buried himself deep, coming almost painfully hard. He felt the pulsing against his stomach and heard the guttural groan when Dean arched and the warm fluid spread. He relaxed, letting their bodies meld, losing himself in Dean’s arms. His chest was still heaving when he pulled himself up on his forearms and dipped his head for a gentle kiss. The light was blinding when Dean reached to turn on the lamp. He needed to see Cas’s eyes. He always saw everything in Cas’s eyes. His pupils were lust blown, they were wet with emotion, they were tender when they locked on his. “You really are so beautiful, Cas,” he whispered thickly, reaching up to touch Cas’s face. The shared jokes, the near ability to finish the other’s sentence, the drawing that hung above his desk, it all played as a reel and Cas felt both shattered and whole when the tears came. Dean wiped them away and smiled gently. “I know…me too,” he whispered, lifting his head to kiss Cas softly.

\--------------------

Their skin was still warm and damp from the shower, the room still heavy with their scent when Dean curled his body around Cas’s and pressed his lips to the back of his neck.

\-------------------- 

“Is it awkward to say that this should feel awkward, but it doesn’t?”

“No,” Dean laughed, touching his lips to the top of Cas’s head. “It’s the Cas Novak way of ensuring that it is in no way awkward to wake up holding your best friend naked in bed.”

“Okay good. I’m glad we’re on the same page,” Cas smiled, looking up at Dean. “Unfortunately I may have to let my royal scribe go.”

“Oh really? And why is that?”

“Conflict of interest. I think that he’s had his eye on you for awhile and frankly, I don’t want the drama.”

“And now you’ll have to go through the process of finding a new royal scribe. The resumes, the interviews…”

“I’ll just borrow you when I need a scribe.”

“Okay, now I just feel cheap,” Dean grinned.

“I offered you 24/7 computer support, and that was before we had sex.”

“Valid point,” Dean nodded, pressing his lips to Cas’s forehead. “Should we be indulgent and order room service?”

“Do either of us make enough money to afford it?”

“I think that depends on the day. But, I am given a per diem for this particular workshop. Between that and my total lack of interest in getting out of bed until I absolutely have to, I say we indulge.”

“I am not going to argue with you,” Cas smiled, reaching for the menu that was sitting on the nightstand.

\--------------------

“Well, you did end up fucked by paying for that second room.”

“Okay,” Dean chuckled. “I have no idea if that pun was intended, but it was almost clever. Just because we slept in this room does not mean that the room next door needs to stay untouched.”

“Ah,” Cas smiled, taking a sip of coffee. “So we can stand on a different balcony and drink scotch tonight? And no, the pun was not intended.”

“It was still borderline clever. But yes, we can stand on whatever balcony you want.” Dean reached for Cas’s hand and pulled it to his lips.

“You keep that shit up I’m going to start thinking that you have a crush on me.”

“I’m not asking you to learn to ride a horse or check the moon cycle for the best sunsets, but I can admit that I like ‘like’ you.”

“So we can make out on the balcony?” Cas grinned, kissing Dean softly.

“I’ll take that into consideration. Do you want to go to the symposium or would you rather venture out into the city alone? No worries about hurting my feeling if you have little to no desire to sit through writing workshops.”

“I uh, actually I’d like to go to the symposium.”

“You don’t have to do that for me, Cas.” Dean turned his head and looked at Cas softly.

“No, I want to. I drank the kool aid and now I’m fascinated by writers.”

“How fascinated? And which writers?” Dean scowled, holding back laughter.

“Fairly fascinated, and I definitely have my favorites.”

“I can live with that,” Dean shrugged. “You know, this breakfast in bed thing is pretty amazing.”

“I know. I’m sitting here naked, next to you, holding a hot cup of coffee, and wishing like hell that I really did have a royal chef. So do I have to pretend to be a writer again?”

“No,” Dean laughed. “One of the keynote speakers is an old professor from Berkeley. I’ll just tell them that you’re my assistant.”

“Which means that I work under you?”

“That’s something that we can discuss later on the balcony.”

\--------------------

Cas was proud, and a little physically affected when he watched Dean speak. He knew that passion now. He’d felt it, and he was experiencing Dean’s world. He had his laptop open and was typing, writing in his journal, trying to make sense of what he felt, but it was nonsensical. Dean was charismatic and beautiful, and Cas couldn’t help but wonder if everybody in the room was falling a little bit in love with the timbre of his voice and the brightness in his eyes.

\--------------------

Dean periodically looked for Cas, and smiled when he saw him listening to a speaker or taking notes on his laptop. The choice to become a writer hadn’t been easy. The rejection, the little return for a lot of effort, the criticism, Dean understood why some writers went mad or drank themselves into oblivion. He had difficult days. He had months of living hand to mouth. But he tried to live, and to write, with integrity. He saw a hint of that hunger on Cas’s face. Cas was a software designer, that’s who he was and what he knew, but Dean truly believed that everybody was a writer. There was a story within all of us and maybe he should encourage Cas to tap into his. 

They had spent months together, playing soccer, going to ridiculous places, getting on airplanes at the last minute. He remembered the conversations over scotch and the comfortable silence while they both worked in the same room. Even when Cas’s hard body landed on his when he was taken down on wet grass, he hadn’t viewed Cas as a sexual conquest. It wasn’t until he looked at him over dinner, possibly the most cliche moment to have an awakening. On some level, they belonged together. For months they had been together. Those clear sky eyes and warm smile, the way that he turned his head slightly when he was listening, truly listening, his sigh of contentment when he sat on the couch and leaned back with a drink in his hand; Dean had never taken those things for granted. Cas had been bold in bed. His hands had been certain, his lips unafraid. He winked when their eyes met and always received a small smile in return.

\--------------------

“Okay, I think I’m partial to the east coast circuit.”

“For personal reasons? Or professional?” Dean asked. He reached for Cas’s hand and they walked out of the auditorium with their finger intertwined.

“Well, I’m not a professional writer so we can rule that out. But, I’m not just talking about this,” he squeezed Dean’s hand. “It’s incredible and I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. I mean the writers, the critics, the professors, I’m glad that I brought my laptop because there isn’t a chance in hell that I could remember everything that I heard today.”

“Are you already outlining your best seller?” Dean grinned.

“I’m working on the synopsis.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Skinny midwestern kid finds himself ten years later walking around Manhattan at sunset.”

“Sounds compelling. Romantic interest?”

“Possibly, but I’d write in the romantic interest with kind of a ‘wow factor’. One of those unexpected pairings. Something that had been there below the surface.”

“They call that slow burn.”

“Ah, I’ll make note of that. Does slow burn have a timeframe?”

“Depends on who you ask,” Dean shrugged. “Some will say that it should play out over years, some would say months.”

“Coming from a guy who writes about social change and pop culture. I still cannot figure out how you are able to tie the two together.”

“I told you, there is power in pop culture. It’s sociological in a lot of ways. A common interest that brings people together has the potential to do great things and bring about change. Granted, there is a flip side and I do recognize that. But in many ways, it allows people to see the human condition through other’s experiences.”

“When did you become so passionate about it? I mean, when did you realize that this was the direction you wanted to go.”

“I was in a coffee shop,” Dean smiled, pausing for a green light before they crossed the street. “The barista had piercings and tattoos. I didn’t give a shit. I sat down to study and I overheard a conversation. I realized that one of the participants was a doctor, and when I stood up to leave I saw that they were all wearing t-shirts, jeans, and had tattoos. There was no way for me to know which one would get out of bed the next morning with the intention of helping save lives.”

“Okay, and the pop culture?”

“They were talking about Star Wars. These guys knew everything about the movies, the different iterations. They were having friendly arguments over story arcs, theories, casting choices, production changes. I mean, I’ve seen the movies and I barely made it through the prequels. But these guys were so entrenched in the narrative and it’s possibilities, I started looking into that type of thing. I didn’t know that fandoms really existed. That they offer people a safe haven, an acceptance. I went on forums, I joined Facebook groups, I followed people on Twitter, I went to conventions. I saw it first hand and I felt like it is an untapped resource. You should see what some of these collectives have been able to accomplish. It’s incredible.”

“So the trip to Europe?”

“Human interest,” Dean sighed, finally crossing the busy intersection. “You see fandoms, you see some fans, brilliant and talented people, who feel like outcasts because they don’t fit what the media tells them is the norm. It’s bullshit.”

“Coming from a guy who is disgustingly good looking,” Cas smiled.

“Good genes. Just like yours, or Benny’s, or Lisa’s. Luck of the draw, really. And who’s to say that any of us are disgustingly good looking? It’s subjective. Everybody is beautiful, I truly believe that.”

“So sexual attraction?”

“Physical manifestation of a chemical reaction. Do you want me to use the obvious example?” 

“Sure,” Cas smiled.

“What was it, maybe six months ago we went out for a beer in Lawrence because that’s what people do after high school reunions. You have the same strange habit that I do of eavesdropping on people in coffee shops and you remembered that I’d be in town. Again, the perfunctory invitation for a drink. We started to get to know each other. You asked me about conventions and I figured that we were friendly enough you might as well stay at my place. None of it felt sexual. Not walking around shirtless or landing on top of each other when we played soccer. We get each other and that is what made it so easy to just be together platonically. Last night, the chemical reaction kicked in. When I knew that we saw the exact same thing from that balcony, when I felt like you had stepped into my world, I wanted all of you. When you leaned your body against mine, I knew that you felt it too.”

“It’s the connection and not the anatomy,” Cas said softly.

“Exactly,” Dean smiled, stopping on the sidewalk to pull Cas to him. “The connection has been there, but I’m relieved that we didn’t realize it until now. It would have been too soon. I’m relieved that it happened here because I don’t know if it would have felt so right in one of our apartments. We’re too comfortable there. This city is passionate and intense and we felt that.”

Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck and kissed him, ignoring the glares and purposeful jostling from the people trying to walk past them. “Can I use that last part in my best seller? I’ll give you credit in the bibliography.”

“You can take it. Consider it a freebie,” Dean smiled. “Now, I don’t know about you but I was not that impressed with their version of ‘lunch’ and I’m starving.”

“Should we go back to the Italian place? We can share a spaghetti noodle like they do in Lady and the Tramp,” Cas grinned.

“You are kind of an asshole.”

“I have never claimed not to be.”

“Fair enough. I say let’s find a pub that serves greasy food.”

“We’re in New York,” Cas smiled. “That shouldn’t be hard to find.”

\--------------------

“Why are you taking pictures?”

“What?” Dean smiled. “I can’t capture the moment?”

“I’m leaning against the balcony railing with a glass in my hand…”

“With the New York skyline behind you and you look amazing.”

“Does this mean that we can go the cheesy selfie route.”

“Ah, so you want to capture the moment together?”

“This trip has been a little life altering,” Cas chuckled, tilting the glass to his lips and reaching for his own phone.

“I’m amazed that your sarcasm is able to hold back such romantic sappiness,” Dean grinned.

“The force is strong. Now get your ass over here and let’s take this embarrassingly cheesy photo.”

“My only rules are no online posting. Well, unless you use Snapchat filters.”

“Not going to happen.”

Dean turned his head and planted a loud kiss on Cas’s cheek when he took the picture. Cas turned his head, feigning annoyance, but leaned in when Dean reached for him. They kissed softly and passionately, pulling away to laugh when Cas dropped his phone. He picked it up, slid it into his pocket, and pulled Dean to him.

\--------------------

Cas tried to relax when he felt Dean’s finger. His lips were already swollen when they kissed deeply, Dean’s other hand was roaming his body, his fingertips trailing up his rigid shaft. He clenched his jaw with the second finger, pulling and stretching until he felt it. He couldn’t describe it, but he felt it. A pain, a pleasure, an almost electric sensitivity. He was dazed when Dean quickly slid his cock inside of him, running his hands up his thighs and across his stomach, letting him adjust. He needed to see something other than white hot pain in those blue eyes. He shifted his hips and felt the groan. He watched Cas’s eyes roll back and started to slowly thrust. Cas had gone to another place when he reached for Dean and held their bodies close, kissing him passionately. His hands were roaming, sliding down Dean’s back, his palms pressing against his ass, feeling the muscles contract against them. They moved fluidly, rocking, kissing deeply while moans escaped their chests. “God, you are incredible,” Dean murmured. His cock was sliding in and out rhythmically, his hand between their bodies moving along Cas’s shaft, Cas felt lost. He didn’t know how long Dean had been inside of him, it felt like a lifetime, it felt like mere seconds when his stomach tightened and he began to throb. He tilted his head back and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, Dean’s name became an echo and he was near delirium when Dean buried himself and came with a loud groan. “Are you okay?” Dean murmured, his body relaxed, his face buried in Cas’s neck. “I honestly don’t know,” Cas chuckled quietly. “That was...I don’t even know what that was.” He drew lazy patterns on Dean’s sweaty back and smiled slowly when he felt the shiver. Dean kissed his bruised lips softly until he went limp and pulled out, rolling onto his back. “No really,” he panted. “Are you okay? I know that the first time can be a little rough.” Cas turned his head and met Dean’s eyes. “That was rough? I can’t imagine how it will be next time.” Dean smiled, touching his lips to his forehead. “You won’t be ready for a next time for a few days.” Cas reached for Dean’s hand and intertwined their fingers. “I have no doubt that it will be worth the wait.”

\--------------------

They were quiet, almost melancholy when the plane landed at Sea-Tac just after 10:00pm. Cas had received an email, he had been awarded the design project. Dean had ideas for new articles, but he had research to do. Cas had a Skype call scheduled with the project manager and he needed to do it at his desk. Dean had articles to outline and he needed to do it at his desk.

They were exhausted when they got to Dean’s apartment. They crawled into the bed together, their lips and fingers trailing softly until they gave in and fell asleep.

\--------------------

They embraced in the kitchen, drinking coffee slowly. They kissed at the door, holding each other close. Dean walked Cas to the parking lot and wrapped his arms around him, pressing his lips to his temple. Cas finally got in his car and Dean closed the door gently. “Call me when you get home.”

“Yeah,” Cas smiled weakly. “I will.” 

Dean stood in the parking lot until he could no longer see Cas’s tail lights. He sighed deeply and went back to his apartment.

\--------------------

Cas was smiling at the few pictures he’d been able to capture before he dropped his phone. Him and Dean kissing on the balcony with the skyline behind them. It was romantically cliche and embarrassingly sappy, but he still smiled. He sent them to Dean as a reply to a sweet message that he’d received earlier. He heard his Skype alert and adjusted his tie before he answered the call.

\--------------------

Cas leaned back and sighed when the call was over. He would be working in tandem with a developer, a developer that he’d worked with before. There was no doubt that the guy was talented but just like many people in this field, he was very particular and could be demanding. If the money wasn’t so good he might have considered backing out. 

He missed Dean. It hadn’t been 12 hours since he’d pulled out of the parking lot in Seattle, but he still missed Dean. 

He traded the button down shirt and tie for a thin t-shirt and started going over the specifications for this project. 

\--------------------

_“Ever been to a film premier?”_

Cas never knew what to expect when Dean texted him, but this was new.

_“Only in Cannes. Oh, and a couple of times at Sundance, but that was pretty low key.”_

_“Asshole. One of the filmmakers from the UCLA Symposium is doing a limited release of an indie documentary. Apparently I’m part of the inner circle because I was gifted with two tickets. One for myself and one for a friend. I couldn’t get a hold of Benny…”_

Cas almost choked on his coffee. Somedays he didn’t know if they were matching wits or if it was just how they communicated.

_“Does Benny put out?”_

_“Only after a 12 pack of cheap beer. But, it’s just embarrassing and sloppy. I end up feeling used. So, do you want to go to the premier?”_

_“Will you put out?”_

_“Only after a sip of scotch and directions to the bedroom.”_

_“What if we're out of scotch?”_

_“Water is fine. Doesn’t even need to be bottled or filtered. I’ll take it from the tap.”_

_“You’re that easy?”_

_“Yes I am. The premier is on Friday.”_

Cas looked at the calendar. It was Tuesday and he was ahead of schedule on this project. He could justify taking a couple of days off if he stayed up and finished the design pattern that he’d been working on. He knew that the developer he was working with as well as the customer might have some questions, but he could just as easily open his laptop at Dean’s as he could in his own apartment.

_“I’ll see you tomorrow.”_

\--------------------

The anticipation, the butterflies when he pulled into the parking lot in made him feel like he was showing up for a first date. He pulled his bag out of the backseat and smiled when he realized that there wouldn’t be a pillow and a blanket sitting neatly on the couch for him. What happened in New York, it wasn’t isolated, born from the exhilaration and energy of their surroundings. It was the beginning. Cas knew that if somebody were to ask him his relationship status, he wouldn’t say single. He didn’t know what this was, he knew that they may never talk about it, but he didn’t want anyone else. He walked across the courtyard and knocked on the door lightly before opening it.

\--------------------

“Hey baby,” Dean grinned, watching Cas drop his bag on the floor and tilting his head for a kiss. “I’m just going over some notes from New York.”

“You took notes?” 

“I did. And they’re pretty risque. That whole waking up and having sex in the dark thing was seriously hot.”

“I am not going to disagree,” Cas sighed, sitting down on the couch and leaning his body against Dean’s. “So, an indie documentary.”

“Yeah, it’s about the alternative/grunge trend in the 90’s. The poetic apathy in music, the idea that it was cut short by the prevalence of drugs, especially heroin. At the time it was viewed as an almost artistic movement, a cultural shift. So, he gathered up a bunch of GenXers, musicians and artists mainly, to try and dissect how and why the trend came about. If you’re going to show a documentary about grunge in the 90’s, you are pretty much contractually obligated to do it in Seattle.”

“That makes sense,” Cas yawned.

“Did you stay up all night working?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll order pizza,” Dean chuckled. “I’ll even be courteous enough to keep my hands to myself and let you get some sleep.”

“No need for courtesy. Feel free to get as handsy as you want.”

\--------------------

Cas lifted his hips and let Dean slide his jeans and boxers down when he knelt between his legs. He leaned back on the couch, his breath catching when Dean’s tongue slid up his shaft and swirled around the head. He watched Dean toy with him, his fingers, his lips, gentle teeth. His chest was already heaving when the wet warmth of Dean’s mouth enveloped him. He licked and sucked, stroking with his hand, taking Cas deeper with every dip of his head. Dean’s low moan sent tremors through Cas’s body. He held his hands gently against the back of Dean’s head, mesmerized by the sight of his cock sliding between those full lips. His legs were shaking when he subtly thrust, the suction of Dean’s hollowed cheeks, the passing of his rough tongue across the sensitive skin brought him quickly to the edge. Dean gently moaned again, taking Cas down his throat when he felt the throbbing and heard the loud groan. He swallowed the warm sticky fluid, sucking gently until Cas went limp.

“I’d say that I did a decent job at keeping my hands to myself,” Dean grinned at the dazed look on Cas’s face. 

“Uh yeah, your hands definitely showed self control,” Cas panted. “Now I just have to solve the clothing dilemma. Do I bother to pull my pants back up? Or do I just take them off?”

“Considering that we aren’t planning on going anywhere other than to bed, I vote for take them off. I’m willing to take mine off as a sign of solidarity.”

“You would do that for me?” Cas smiled slowly, pulling his t-shirt over his head and pushing his pants down his legs. 

“I would,” Dean smiled, dropping his clothes on top of Cas’s and crawling onto the couch. “Who’s turn is it to pick a movie?”

“After that performance? We can watch whatever you want.”

“Performance?”

“It was a work of art.”

“I can live with that,” Dean chuckled softly as he reached for the remote and they curled up together in just their boxers. It was only a matter of minutes before he heard Cas’s even breaths and he pressed his lips to the top of his head, pulling him closer.

\--------------------

“So uh, they tend to take pictures at these things as you walk in,” Dean said quietly when Cas reached for his hand. “The chances of anybody actually seeing one are slim, and I am in no way suggesting that you let go. I’m just letting you know on the off chance…”

“I’m not ashamed, Dean. If somehow a pictures gets out of us holding hands at a small movie theater in Seattle, then so be it. Unless we want to duck our heads and cover our faces,” Cas grinned.

“A round of let’s pretend that the paparazzi gives a rat’s ass about us?”

“Are they the actual paparazzi?”

“No,” Dean chuckled. “They’re photographers from the distribution company or from small artsy news sites.”

“Now I’m a little disappointed. I mean the paparazzi…”

“Let’s go.”

\--------------------

Cas recognized the filmmaker who hugged Dean and thanked him for coming after the screening. He’d led a workshop in New York. Cas saw the pointed look at the way Dean had his arm wrapped around his waist almost possessively. Cas saw the subtle posturing. They shook hands quickly, but didn’t exchange niceties. Dean’s hand slid up his back and squeezed his shoulder. Cas saw the consternation. Dean’s easy smile, the beginnings of creases in the corners of his eyes, the way his clothing hinted at the hard body beneath it, he was stunning. His charm could be misinterpreted as mild flirtation, his questions and compliments taken as a slight personal interest. Cas had never been the type to gloat, but he was internally, while feeling almost sorry for the man. He obviously hadn’t given Dean two tickets, Dean had asked for a second. The envy was almost palpable when Dean pulled him close and kissed his temple. 

“Why don’t we head out and grab a beer,” Cas murmured quietly.

“You want to go?”

“Maybe we should.”

“Uh, okay,” Dean said quietly, reaching for his hand. He was complimentary when he said his goodbye, Cas was silent and largely ignored. They got to the car and Dean put the key in the ignition but didn’t start the engine. “Are you okay?”

“I am, but I don’t know that he is.”

“What?”

“Did he offer you two tickets or did you ask for a second?”

“I asked for a second. Why?”

“I uh, I think that he was hoping you’d come alone.”

“Him? No way,” Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “We’ve crossed paths a few times, but never…”

“Much to his dismay I’m guessing.”

“Does that bother you?”

“No,” Cas smiled. “I know where you’re sleeping and honestly I have no right to ask…”

“You have every right.” Dean reached for his hand and pulled it to his lips. “This thing, whatever it is, it is very real to me, Cas. This isn’t some fleeting excitement that is going to fade. You do know where I’ll be sleeping. If you’re not next to me, then I’ll be alone.”

“I don’t need to know.”

“Yes,” Dean smiled. “You do, I can see it. So it’s time to broach the subject of monogamy. I don’t want anyone else. I’m not being cocky when I say that I don’t think you are looking anywhere else. What happened in New York, it was a turn in the path that we were already on. We agreed that it was inevitable. It was unbelievable.”

“It was,” Cas dropped his eyes and could feel the blush crawling up his cheeks. “I know where I want to be.”

“Okay then,” Dean leaned over and kissed him softly. “If anyone asks if you’re single, you have the option to tell them no.”

“It’s not an option,” Cas smiled. He’d never thought about what he wanted, not since college, but it was sitting just a few feet away from him and he knew that Dean felt it.

\--------------------

Their skin was still warm and damp from the shower, their bodies wrapped around one another as they lay in the dark and talked. They laughed and ruminated about anything and everything. Cas had stopped wondering if they would ever run out of things to say. He could tell the same story twice and Dean would find a second perspective. Dean could tell the same story twice and it would have two entirely different meanings. They talked about the filmmaker, their conversation in the car, and in with a fearlessness easily found in the dark, Cas talked about 175 miles.

\--------------------

“I uh...maybe that was too much too soon.”

“No,” Dean said softly, finding Cas’s lips in the dark. “Granted, this is only our second shift of spending time together as lovers, but how many weekends have we been together platonically? I told you at the bar in Lawrence that I am so fucking busy that I wouldn’t drag anyone into my life. I meant it. You could argue that I dragged you to Chicago and New York, and maybe even the Portland Zoo, but it felt like a fit. Your life isn’t on hold because of the way that I live. I want you to experience it with me, and I want to experience yours. Before you start with the ‘my life is boring’ spiel, no it isn’t. I admire what you do. It takes skill and patience and intelligence. I actually love being there when you work because you are so focused on creating something useful, something that will in some way better a person’s world.”

“I design software.”

“Right, but almost everything that we take part in somehow correlates to technology. I can’t write an article without software. We can’t book plane tickets. We can’t get into the zoo or pay for a meal. Somebody created that. What I do isn’t necessary, it’s entertaining and enlightening. At least I’d like to think it is. We’ve sat in a room, both working, both creating, and there is balance in what we create. That’s why I don’t feel like I’ve dragged you into anything. I know that you are here because you want to be and because you can be. I’ve spent years traveling, never willing to admit that I’m lonely. It took watching you drive away until I couldn’t see your taillights anymore for me to finally see it.”

“So I’ve taught you how to be lonely?” Cas smiled.

“I miss you when we’re not together. I think that our texts and calls are a testament to that. We communicate in some form every day. It’s our way of being together with 175 miles between us. That 175 miles has become a hindrance.”

“I just...I mean...you bounce ideas off of me or send me rough drafts and a part of me wants you there, pacing with a drink in your hand, waiting to hear my opinion. The idea of an organic conversation about work or life instead of short messages or phone calls that sometimes need to end abruptly, it’s what I want. That’s what we have when I’m here or when you come down to Portland. It’s not stilted, there’s no confusion about the emotional reaction when we can say the words and not read them on our phones. Maybe I’m over romanticizing, but I feel like even if we’d never become lovers, living closer is something that we’d both seriously consider. I’m used to making the drive, and I’m used to waiting for you to show up. Maybe I would lose that sense of anticipation, but maybe I’d gain...I don’t know…instant gratification?” Cas said quietly, letting himself suggest and speak with the passion that he so admired in Dean.

“You would learn my bad habits.”

“You would learn mine. There is something intimate about knowing whether or not a person drinks milk straight out of the carton or which way they put the roll of toilet paper on the holder.”

“As long as we can agree on the toilet paper thing…”

“Over or under?”

“Over.”

“Maybe this is destined,” Cas chuckled, moving his body closer to Dean’s.

\--------------------

Again, Cas’s eyes were bleak when Dean looked at him, kissing him tenderly before closing his car door. Again, he was melancholy when he stood in the parking lot until he could no longer see the taillights.

\--------------------

“So, I’m heading down to Lawrence next week,” Dean mumbled, still staring at his laptop.

“Homesick?” Cas grinned. Dean had shown up that afternoon on Cas’s doorstep unannounced, with his bag in his hand and the smile that he only let Cas see. They both had work to do, but the silence was easy. They were comforted, at peace, just sharing space. 

“No,” Dean laughed, “My brother and Jess are going to be there with the kids. My mom has this hang up with family seeing each other and shit. I don’t get it. Anyway, it’s been awhile so I figured I might as well suck it up and go.”

“Are you going to tell them?”

“About us? They’ll see the change, they’ll notice the difference. So will Benny and Lisa. But I’m not ready to name names or give details. I know that makes me sound like a total…”

“Asshole? No it doesn’t. I agree with you. I’m not ashamed…”

“Neither am I.”

“I know,” Cas smiled, standing up from his desk chair and stretching. “But it’s something that we probably need to build up to. If you have to tell them that you’re with someone, then tell them. Just go the vague pronoun route. If you slip and say ‘he’ or ‘him’ your mom is going to be very disappointed that you won’t be giving her more grandchildren.”

“So you’re fine with staying my dirty little secret for now?”

“I’ll be your dirty little anything,” Cas murmured, closing Dean’s laptop and setting it on the coffee table so that he could straddle him.

“Maybe we should talk about Lawrence more often,” Dean moaned, tilting his head back to give Cas access to the sensitive skin on his throat.

“Or we could move this into the bedroom and not talk about anything.”

“Yeah,” Dean smiled. “Good plan, we’ll go with that.”

\--------------------

“God, I love it when you ride my cock,” Dean murmured, running his hands down Cas’s back, gently squeezing his ass. Cas was still while he relaxed his body around the fullness inside of him. They kissed deeply, Cas finally pulling away when he felt Dean’s arms behind him, his fingers massaging his shoulders. He leaned back, letting Dean hold him while he rocked slowly, moving up and down, wanting Dean to watch his body slide along the length of his cock. He wrapped his fingers around his shaft, stroking and touching himself. It was visual, physical, and visceral. Cas knew that Dean’s inherent need to experience him on all levels made him a better lover. His legs spread wide, Dean’s fingers squeezing his shoulders with enough strength to leave bruises as he pulled their chests together and pressed his lips to Cas’s passionately. Their gaze locked and Dean could see it, the tension, the release, already building in Cas’s eyes. He was thrusting gently, gripping Cas’s hips, encouraging him. “I need you to come for me, baby,” Dean whispered, not knowing that the intensity in his own eyes rendered Cas speechless and brought him to the cusp. Cas came, crying out, still squeezing himself gently while Dean slid his hands along Cas’s thighs, stilling his body so that he could thrust harder. Cas heard the loud groan, felt Dean’s cock throbbing deep inside of him, and watched his chest heave. He was pulled tenderly into Dean’s arms, soft lips trailed along his shoulders and neck. He’d never known that it was possible to be both desperate and gentle, but Dean was. Some nights they made love sweetly, some nights they fucked hungrily. But, it was nights like this, nights when Cas knew they would continue to touch for hours. They would watch their bodies rock and arch, listen to low moans and needy cries, feel the stirring pain and undeniable pleasure. The scent of their skin, of them, would permeate the room. “Are you okay, baby?” Dean whispered, pressing his lips to Cas’s forehead. “I’m better than okay,” Cas smiled slowly. “Warm shower and then a drink?” Cas just nodded, climbing off of Dean’s lap.

\-------------------- 

“You know, this isn’t like when I went to UCLA, you can call, text, and email me.”

“You don’t think that will possibly throw any red flags?”

“I’m a writer. I have to take calls and read emails if I want my articles to go to copy.”

“Good point,” Cas said lazily, curling his body against Dean’s on the couch. “Is it sappy if I tell you that I’m going to miss you.”

“Incredibly so,” Dean smiled, pressing his lips to the top of Cas’s head. “I know that we tossed the idea around, but maybe we should start the actual process of making the 175 mile drive obsolete when I get back.”

“North or south?”

“Doesn’t matter to me.”

“North.”

“Okay,” Dean chuckled lightly, pulling Cas closer. “And what’s the motivation for North?”

“I went to school in Oregon. I ended up back there because I was both lazy and uninspired. And, the hipsters have much better conversations in the coffee shops here.”

“I think we’ll have to completely upgrade. Unless we want to get rid of all of the furniture for the sake of our ‘offices’.”

“We can worry about that when you get home. We’ve got a lot to work out. Color schemes. Do we want to go feng shui? And then there are china patterns and those little decorative soaps to think about,” Cas smiled. 

“So two bedrooms, unnaturally shaped miniature soap, and a new moat?”

“No moat. I think that we can form a united front against any and all enemies. Possibly even the rabid angry soccer mom.”

“Do you plan to coach soccer?”

“I might,” Cas tilted his head and smiled. “You could be my assistant coach. You know, work under me.”

“I just did,” Dean grinned, kissing Cas softly.

\--------------------

It was almost a pattern. Cas would work on his project for a few hours, send Dean a text, write in his personal journal, pour a drink or find something to eat. He took a few racy pictures and sent them late at night, always receiving one in return. He missed Dean. He kept thinking that maybe in a year, maybe six months, they could go to Lawrence together. He would look at the drawing that still hung above his desk and feel the tears, there wasn’t a chance in hell that he was going to let Dean go. Dean was teaching him how to live.

\--------------------

“I want to say something really sappy right now, but I won’t.”

“Nice save.”

“I thought so,” Cas smiled into the phone. “So, how’s Lawrence.”

“Uh, barren and boring. My brother still hasn’t knocked up his wife so I know that my mom is plotting new guilt trips. I think I might accept an arranged marriage at this point, but no less than six of the tipping goats.”

“I think that you are worth at least eight.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“You are such a sweet talker,” Dean chuckled softly. “I went to Benny and Lisa’s last night. Benny is seriously considering running for city council. He actually asked me for advice.”

“You were in student government.”

“I was sixteen years old.”

“Benny is likable, you said that he’s smart, he can probably pull it off. I never thought I’d see the day when a Lafitte would be on the city council, but I am impressed.”

“Lisa noticed that something is different about me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I tried to tell her that I’m testing out a new hairstyle, but she seems to think that there’s more to it than that.”

“So she knows?” Cas laughed.

“She suspects. I’ll let her enjoy the mystery for now. I’m starting to think that she has caught on to my switch hitting ways.”

“Really?”

“Yep. She hasn’t come right out and said anything, but she’s been pretty pronoun vague herself. And I honestly don’t think that she gives a shit. I think that the ‘who’ would send a shockwave, but she’d recover.”

“Hey, she had her chance. I mean she called off your engagement and she never did show up to ride off into the sunset. When you think about it, she brought it upon herself.”

“Hell, we could blame her for the entire thing. It started out as the Lisa Braeden lonely hearts club.”

“I’m not opposed to the idea.”

“Okay, well I can hear people getting ready to sit down and eat and I don’t normally talk to editors this late or for this long. Sam’s family is leaving on Friday so I figured I’d just give them a ride to the airport and head home.”

“So I’ll see you?”

“Saturday?”

“I can accept Saturday. I miss you.”

“Ah, and you thought you’d get out of this sap free,” Dean grinned. “But I miss you too.”

\--------------------

“Are you seeing somebody?”

“I travel around the world, mom. I see a lot of people.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Oh, my personal life? I don’t know that my sexual escapades are really appropriate at the dinner table, but okay. What do you want to know?”

“Dean!”

“What?” Dean laughed, watching his father and his brother biting their lips. “To answer your burning questions, no I am not currently ring shopping and no I have not impregnated anybody. Anything beyond that would just be things that you probably don’t want to hear You may just have to accept the reality that I might end up a bitter old spinster.”

“I believe that technically spinsters are women, and you deserve more than that.”

“Hey, if you can find someone who thinks that I’m worth eight goats, we can talk.”


	4. It's our world

Cas smiled when he heard the knock. Dean may have said Saturday, but that usually meant that he’d be there sometimes between Friday afternoon and Sunday night. He opened the door and was rooted in place.

\--------------------

“Uh...April? What..”

“Hello Cas. It’s been a long time.”

“Yeah, over seven years. What are you doing here? How did you even find me?”

“It isn’t hard to track down somebody you went to college with. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

Cas was in a daze when he stepped back and let her past him into the apartment. This couldn’t really be happening. He was waiting for the director to yell ‘cut’. She immediately sat on the couch, dropping her shoes on the floor and tucking her legs under her. She was getting comfortable. “You still didn’t explain what you are doing here,” Cas said, closing the door.

“I thought my email made it clear.”

“You emailed me some bullshit about comparing your husband to me and apologizing for things that happened over seven years ago. Wait…” Cas turned and looked at her, shaking his head slowly.

“What?”

“Your email address. April_Roman…”

“That’s my married name. I plan to change it back.”

“Which one did you marry?”

“What?”

“Richard or Nick? I know that Nick is only a few years older than us. Richard, he’s significantly older, but that would qualify him as a sugar daddy.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I did some work for Richard Roman a few months before you emailed me. You knew that. You are bored in your fucking marriage to whichever one of those assholes gave you the rock, and you saw my name. Pretty smart to use my old email address. I’m guessing that’s how you found out where I live. My mailing address is on the contract. You have got to be fucking kidding me, April. So what is the problem? Doesn’t he buy you enough pretty things? Take you on enough expensive vacations? Does he have a piece or two on the side?”

“I’ve had time to think, Cas.”

“You are either bored or you want revenge and you thought that I’d be the path of least resistance. You emailed me on the off chance that I am still single and possibly still hung up on the whole first love thing.”

“Are you?”

“I’m not going to stand here and lie, it took me some time to get over it.”

“But you have?”

“Yes, I have and I am happy. Now I know how it feels to have somebody look at me like nothing else exists. To have somebody show me their world, and do whatever it takes to make me a part of it. To have somebody watch me stand in an art gallery, just staring at a drawing because somehow it resonated,” Cas sighed, turning his eyes to the framed picture above his desk, “and then go behind my back and talk the artist into letting me have it. It’s an unbelievable feeling, and I’m guessing that you don’t understand any of it. That’s tragic because everyone deserves to feel the way that I feel. But you and I, we are nothing but memories. So you need...” 

Cas heard the knock and dropped his head. “Oh shit...I think this is about to get interesting.”

He closed his eyes and opened the door slowly. He felt Dean’s arms, smelled his skin, heard the soft sigh when his lips brushed his temple, and then he felt his body stiffen. “Cas?”

“Hi, I’m April,” April smiled sweetly, reaching out her hand but making no effort to get up off of the couch. 

“April?” Dean let go of Cas and took a step back. “April...this is...wow...okay, well I guess I’ll…” He felt blindsided and confused when he turned to leave. He looked back from the doorway and his eyes met Cas’s. 

“Dean…”

“I uh...I don’t want to interrupt. I know that I’m here early and I didn’t expect...anyway just...we’ll talk later.”

“Dean…”

Dean closed the door softly behind him and hurried down the stairs. He didn’t know if Cas had opened the door to follow him, he didn’t know what he’d say if he did. He stopped halfway across the parking lot and he saw it, the look that Cas had given him before he left. The frustration, the fear, the confusion; he could always see everything in Cas’s eyes. He took a deep breath and walked back towards the apartment.

\--------------------

He didn’t bother knocking, he just looked at the surprised faces when he walked in. He set the bottle and wrapped package on the coffee table and reached for Cas. “I’m not doing this dramatic jealous bullshit thing,” he said, cupping Cas’s face. “I came back early to see you. If you want me to go…”

“No,” Cas shook his head, wrapping his hands around Dean’s forearms, leaning in for a soft kiss. “I missed you,” he murmured, letting himself be pulled into Dean’s arms.

“I missed you too,” Dean smiled.

“Cas? So this is…”

Cas turned his head and looked at April. “My happiness? Yes.”

“So you’re…”

“At peace? Content? Lucky? Or is your jaw dropped because of the anatomy thing?”

“I just didn’t know that you were…”

“You want to slap a label on me? Go for it. Why don’t you grab your shoes and get back to whichever Roman isn’t giving you enough attention.” 

\--------------------

“I need a drink.”

“I brought a bottle,” Dean smiled, handing Cas the package. “And I came bearing gifts.”

“Ah, souvenirs from Lawrence?”

“Not really.”

Cas tore off the wrapping paper and chuckled softly. “Wow.”

“What?” Dean grinned, pouring them each a drink. “It’s a souvenir, just not from Lawrence.”

“New York?” Cas held up the framed picture of them on the balcony. “You do know that this leaves sappy in the dust. I don’t even know how to describe this. This is like serious Hallmark shit.” He set it on his desk and smiled when he shook his head.

“Shut up and kiss me again,” Dean laughed, handing Cas his drink. “The plot actually thickens, I made a copy for myself,” he murmured against Cas’s lips. “Now, do you want to relax and watch some TV? Talk about Lawrence? Talk about your college girlfriend sitting on your couch?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Really?” Dean sat down and gestured for Cas to sit next to him. He wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close. “Because what I think is that you didn’t want her anywhere near here.”

“No, I didn’t. She uh, she emailed me a few months ago. She used one of my old email addresses. You were here that weekend, you dragged me to the zoo.”

“Ah, so that’s what you didn’t want to talk about.”

“Yeah,” Cas sighed. “I took the bottle in the bedroom and I read it a couple of times. I thought about responding, but I didn’t have anything to say to her. I deleted it before we went to New York, before any of this happened.”

“I don’t need to know what you did with it or when.”

“I know you don’t, but I need to say it. I wasn’t interested, I didn’t want anything to do with her, and at the time you were just my friend who was asleep on my couch. But,” Cas took a deep breath. “She showed up about 20 minutes before you did tonight. I realized that her email address had her married name on it. The same name as a customer that I did a project for not too long ago. That’s how she found me. She’s a lonely rich wife who thought that I was an easy mark. There was some real satisfaction in telling her that I’m happy and nothing but a memory to her. I started to come after you…”

“I knew. It took me a minute to get over the initial shock, but I knew.”

“How?”

“Your eyes, I can see everything in them. I always have. I don’t know if you could deceive me, but I honestly don’t think that you’d try.”

“I have no reason to,” Cas said quietly. “You know me. You get me. You…” he trailed off.

“Yes, I do,” Dean whispered, pressing his lips to Cas’s temple.

\--------------------

Cas felt the sob in his chest when Dean’s hands moved across his body. He was gentle, reverent, as they touched. They moved fluidly, their bodies coming together seamlessly, arching and rocking slowly. Their mouths were passionate, the emotions building with every deep thrust of Cas’s hips. It was euphoric, Dean felt complete with Cas inside of him, their skin warm, dampened by sweat. They were intoxicated by the heady scent that was theirs. The pulsing and throbbing; Dean cried out when he felt the release against his stomach, Cas’s body still sliding while Dean watched the intensity change the shade of blue in his eyes. His name echoed off of the walls when Cas buried himself deep, letting his trembling body be pulled into Dean’s arms. They rocked gently, Dean’s legs entangled with Cas’s, until they were too sensitive to the touch. Cas smiled slowly when he looked into those emerald eyes. “God, you are perfect,” he said quietly, dipping his head to kiss Dean softly. “Far from,” Dean reached up and ran his fingers down the side of Cas’s face, pulling him in for another kiss. “But, I’ll let you believe it.”

\--------------------

Cas blinked against the sunlight filtering through the curtains and rolled over, laying his head on Dean’s chest. He listened to the soft snore and finally heard the yawn, smiling when Dean’s body arched against his when he stretched. 

“Good morning, baby,” Dean murmured, pressing his lips to the top of Cas’s head. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Cas said quietly, liberated by finally saying the words that had been there, lying under the surface for months, just waiting for a voice. “Interesting evening.”

“Yeah,” Dean chuckled softly. “I think that was the closest that I’ve ever come to being truly jealous. But, I think that it was necessary.”

“Jealousy?”

“Maybe,” Dean smiled and stretched again. “But I’m talking about you standing in a room with your past and your present.”

“I’ve never had doubts. This, here, this is what I want.”

“It’s what I want too. It’s what I’ve wanted since I put my hand on your stomach on a balcony in New York. I don’t know the first damn thing about love. I just know that I’ve never felt like this before, and that’s so cliche but there is no other way to word it. You’d think as a writer I’d be able to come up with something more original.”

“I’ve read your articles. I didn’t find a single sonnet or emotional declaration.”

“Well, now I don’t feel so bad about having to fall back on something so generic.”

“Nothing about you is generic,” Cas grinned, tilting his head. “You are driven by passion, you seek passion. Even when we are just here and it’s the calm in the storm, the way that you talk to me, the way that you touch me, it’s profound. It’s like everything is heightened, everything has depth and meaning. Everything has a story.”

“And everyone has a story to tell.”

\--------------------

It was Cas’s turn to go to Lawrence for his father’s birthday. Dean researched and outlined, then sent Cas a text. He looked through his symposium and workshop schedule, then he called Cas. He searched for conventions, art showings, concerts, and he missed Cas. He looked at apartments, condo’s, and houses for rent. Something with enough space to accommodate a software designer and freelance writer. He thought about location, estimated what they could afford with their ever changing incomes, and started making phone calls.

\--------------------

“Hey, I didn’t know if you’d call tonight.”

“I just have a quick question.”

“Okay,” Cas said slowly.

“Are you on a month to month lease?”

“No, but it ends next month. Why?”

“I had enough in savings to do the whole deposit and first months rent thing. It will be ready to move into the beginning of next month, so I guess you’ll have overlap. Or if you’re a glass half full kind of guy, you’ll just have more time to pack your shit. I know that we have two apartments full of furniture…”

“Dean, slow down,” Cas chuckled softly. “I know that logically I should be surprised, and maybe even a little annoyed that you took it upon yourself to rent a...whatever in the hell you’ve rented, but I’m not. So we’re moving?”

“I was planning on it. I mean I’m not going to be an asshole and make the big decisions like what pattern we want on the shower curtain or how we want to sort out the furniture situation. That would just be presumptuous.”

“And we both know how important it is for you to be methodical and not impetuous. I mean you must have wrestled with this decision for at least what...three days?”

“No, I signed the lease yesterday.”

“Ah, 48 hours. This was a well thought out plan.”

“I thought so until I realized that you need to fill out some paperwork too. But, I must have trustworthy eyes because the guy took me at my word. Anyway, how’s Lawrence?”

“Barren and boring.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too. I can’t wait to get home and...well I guess see where my new home is.”

\--------------------

Cas was dubious when Dean parked the car. He gazed at the industrial building, trying to picture what might be inside. The creaking of the driver’s side door pulled him from his reverie and he followed Dean out of the car and across the parking lot. The man who met them at the entrance looked respectable enough, that was a good sign. Cas took a deep breath and went inside.

\--------------------

The ride to the third floor in the revamped service elevator did little to alleviate Cas’s skepticism, but he was going to trust Dean. He closed his eyes when he heard the key slide into the lock and waited for the inevitable verbal push.

“Assimilating with your eyes closed?”

“Something like that.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Dean smiled.

“I did until you pulled into the parking lot.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, just open your eyes and look.”

Cas finally stepped inside of the apartment and stopped. “Assimilating with my eyes opened right now. What in the…”

“It’s a brand new remodel,” the leasing agent smiled. “One bedroom, one full bath, vaulted ceilings with a loft. This is our open floorplan. The appliances are all new.”

“This is unbelievable,” Cas said quietly, looking around at the large windows and hardwood floor. “We can afford this?”

“Uh, I told him that we could,” Dean chuckled quietly. “Yes, I’m pretty sure that we can afford this. If not, I’ll just start writing cheap romance novels and you can finish that best seller that you promised me.”

“I didn’t promise you shit, but I’ll get to work on it. Are you sure that we can afford this?”

“Are you trying to get us out of it?”

“No,” Cas laughed. “But somebody needs to be the voice of reason.”

“And you suddenly decided to be this somebody?”

“I used to be. At least until I went to my ten year high school reunion.”

“Oh yeah, your royal highness?” Dean laughed. 

“Bad jokes do not make me any less responsible. So, where’s the paperwork?”

“That’s my baby,” Dean smiled, pressing his lips to Cas’s temple.

\--------------------

“The bed is going up there,” Cas lifted his head and looked at the railing along the open loft, mindlessly shaking the leasing agent’s hand and vaguely hearing a verbal exchange followed by the soft rattle of a set of keys changing hands. “The ‘bedroom’ can be an office.”

“So you like it?” Dean asked, wrapping his arms around Cas from behind.

“I mean, it’s okay if you’re into the whole spacious open loft non traditional type of thing,” Cas finally smiled. “How did you find this place?”

“I know how to research, I know a few people. It’s amazing, right?”

“It is, and I’m serious about the bed. It is definitely going up there.”

\--------------------

Dean smiled at Cas as he paced around his small apartment on the phone. He was trying to tape up boxes quietly. He almost felt as if he needed to be stealthy although Cas’s family knew that he was moving in with a roommate. He’d stayed vague, Cas had siblings that knew who Dean Winchester was. But, at this point they both knew that it was only a matter of time. It had been months and they were becoming comfortable enough to consider telling people. Dean couldn’t help but smile at the snippets that he heard of Cas’s side of the conversation. A mother’s concern, a mother’s curiosity. He finally heard the ‘I love you too’ and Cas’s sigh when he hung up the phone. 

“And how is mother Novak doing?”

“Mother Novak is concerned about her son who is still single, pushing 30, and moving even further away from Kansas.”

“Sound like Mother Winchester, other than the moving part. I think that we’ve got everything figured out and sorted per your very detailed and organized list. We’ll put whatever you don’t need into the truck and take it to donate. Come back, load it up with the shit you do need, and head up to Seattle to do this all over again. You really turned down a project to get this done? I haven’t seen you turn down a project since we started talking. What was that nine, maybe ten months ago?”

“Has it been that long?”

“Yes, but sometimes it feels like a lifetime.” Dean laughed at the glare and stood up to pull Cas into his arms. “You know what I mean.”

“I know,” Cas said quietly, burying his face in Dean’s neck. “You know this is our last chance to use that bed.”

“And I’m not even going to ask for a sip of water and directions.”

“You don’t need directions. You could find that bed drunk in the dark.”

“I think that we have,” Dean chuckled.

\--------------------

“I feel kind of bad,” Dean panted, running his hands down Cas’s sweaty back.

“Why,” Cas murmured from where his face was pressed against the mattress.

“Because I just fucked you on a bed that we’re donating in a few hours,” he smiled, pulling out and taking a step back. “God I love how you look with your ass up in the air like that.”

“Hey, sometimes a guy just wants to be manhandled from behind.”

Dean reached out and slid his palms up Cas’s ass, wrapping his arms around his waist to help him move backwards off of the bed. “The post sex shower seems almost pointless if we’re just going to get sweaty moving furniture.”

“It’s tradition.”

“Ah, tradition,” Dean grinned, pulling Cas into his arms and kissing him tenderly. “Well, let’s take care of tradition so that we can get this shit done. We still need to have sex in my apartment one last time before we get the furniture out of there.”

“Is that how we are measuring progress?”

“By sexual encounters? Yes, it is.”

“I can live with that,” Cas shrugged, following Dean to the bathroom.

\--------------------

Three days and 175 miles had them exhausted, but they were home. They fell asleep curled up on the couch, the TV still airing the western movie marathon.

\--------------------

They splurged on an expensive bottle of liquor, made dinner together, and ate at the table shoved in a small alcove that they had determined must be the dining room. The new shower curtain had been hung, the bathroom was free of decorative soaps, and the sheets on the large bed were clean. The alcohol, the anticipation, the turn in their path had them both nervous and aroused. It wasn’t New York, but it was theirs. 

\--------------------

They climbed the spiral staircase and leaned against the railing with drinks in hand, silently looking at their space, the atmosphere they created, Cas’s realm where he was king. “I love you,” he murmured, wrapping his arm around Dean’s waist and turning his head for a kiss. “I love you too,” Dean said quietly, taking the glass from his hand and setting both of their drinks on the nightstand. They stripped one another slowly, their mouths and hands touching warm skin as it was exposed. Dean’s button down flannel fell from his shoulders, Cas’s jeans pooled in a pile on the floor around his feet. Soon they were flesh to flesh, holding one another, kissing deeply. Cas fell on the bed, pulling Dean with him. He wanted to bottom, he needed to feel Dean inside of him. Their bodies came together when Dean settled between Cas’s legs, holding his hands above his head, teasing him with feathery kisses on his forehead and cheeks. Cas lifted his hips and rocked slowly, eliciting a moan. He felt them growing hard against his stomach when Dean relented and pressed their lips together, parting them, sliding their tongues slowly and sensually. It was the perfect kiss, the one that made it hard to breathe but was even harder to break. Dean’s mouth was hot yet gentle as it moved down Cas’s body, letting go of his hands. He pulled a sensitive nipple between his lips and sucked, softly pinching the other between his fingers. His lips traced every ridge of muscle under Cas’s taut skin, tasting the fine sheen of sweat that was already building. His chest grazed Cas’s shaft, his fingers trailed up the underside. He smiled at the twitch and took it into his mouth, but only for for a moment, dipping his head once, meant only to arouse Cas further. His tongue slid between Cas’s cheeks, causing a gasp. He licked again, circling the hole, prodding until Cas was writhing. He slipped his fingers in slowly, knowing where to touch, knowing when Cas was ready for him to line up his hard cock and let him feel every inch until he was buried deep in Cas’s body. “God, you are beautiful,” he whispered thickly. He was patient, waiting for the subtle rocking before he pressed their bodies together, trapping Cas between them. His thrusts were slow and deep, his kiss long and passionate with his hand cupping the side of Cas’s face. Cas tilted his hips and spread his legs, running his hands down Dean’s back to rest his palms against his ass. The full pleasure of Dean inside of him radiated throughout his body and he felt complete. Their bodies arched, moving fluidly against one another, letting it build slowly. The emotion and euphoria filled the open space while they murmured promises and words of love. Dean moved slowly, almost pulling out with every thrust that Cas felt at his core. He was overwhelmed when he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and cried Dean’s name. Dean was on the precipice, no longer holding back. He waited for Cas to wrap his legs around his torso and buried himself with a guttural groan, pulsating and throbbing inside of the man that he loved. Their bodies melded, their lips whispering, sucking, coming together for a long, tender, passionate kiss. “I love you, baby,” Dean said quietly. “I love you too,” Cas smiled slowly, his mind bordering on delirium. “You...you are everything,” he whispered. “Everything that I never knew I needed.” Dean dipped his head for another slow kiss and ran his hand up the side of Cas’s face. He didn’t need words, he just needed to look into those impossibly blue eyes.

\--------------------

“What do you think of the view,” Dean smiled, wrapping his arms around Cas from behind.

“Standing here like this will always remind me of the first time. It’s perfect,” Cas turned slowly in his arms. “You’re perfect. I found what I need in someone I never expected.”

“Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?”

“I don’t know,” Cas chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around Dean’s neck. “Sometimes when I see other couples I almost feel selfish because I know that what I have is extraordinary. An intelligent, driven, witty, passionate, sexy man who I know loves me. Who doesn’t doubt how I feel.”

“We are extraordinary.”

“I know,” Cas sighed contentedly. “And I am thankful for it every day. I love you, Dean. What we have is so honest and so raw. It’s real.”

“It is,” Dean said quietly, pulling Cas close. These were the moments that made the tears well up. “I love you too. You take me to a place where I am at a loss for words.”

“I don’t need a sonnet, just an emotional declaration now and then.”

“I can manage an emotional declaration. Now, should we test out sleeping up here?”

“Yeah,” Cas smiled, kissing him softly. “This place, it’s amazing.”

“I saw that railing and I pictured you leaning against it, I knew.”

“God, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, baby,” Dean yawned.

Dean curled his body almost possessively around Cas’s and pressed his lips to the back of his neck before drifting off in their bed, in their home.

\--------------------

They learned one another’s bad habits, but the toilet paper roll was always positioned the same way. They argued and became frustrated when they had to stomp up a flight of spiral stairs rather than shut a bedroom door a bit harder than necessary. They found every take-out location within a few mile radius, a coffee shop that they could walk to, and a reason to smile when the sun softly found it’s way through the curtains in the morning.

They shared the office, usually in a companionable silence. Cas took on projects, Dean outlined articles and had started working on his thesis again. He still had two online classes to take and was running out of time. Dean left the room and laughed every time Cas put on his button up shirt and tie to go with his pajama pants and held a Skype meeting.

Sometimes Cas was able to travel with Dean. Sometimes he sat alone in their office and looked up frequently at the drawing that he’d hung on the wall above his computer monitors. Sometimes they fell asleep and woke up to the smell of the other’s warm skin, sometimes they buried their face in the vacant pillow next to them and reveled in the memories of their bodies being intertwined as they’d fallen asleep together. 

They shared a plane to Kansas City at Thanksgiving, coexisting in a town, but only able to share surreptitious phone calls and texts. They periodically kissed chastely and held hands on the flight back to Sea-Tac and dropped their bags on the hardwood floor, racing up the spiral stairs to spend the night in a haze of fingertips, soft words, and warm lips. They smiled and exchanged emotional declarations.

Christmas was much the same, although Cas surprised Dean with a small tree for the apartment. In return, Dean surprised Cas by hanging lights and finding cliche holiday music. They celebrated, an intimate exchange, the day before the flight that would take them both back to Lawrence. Dean wanted to tell his family, Cas still needed time. 

It was Cas and Dean’s world.

\--------------------

“Hey baby?”

“Yeah,” Cas turned his head and felt the pop in his neck. He’d been sitting at his computer for hours and welcomed the distraction of Dean walking into the office with his laptop.

“I was checking my email while I watched that documentary about music festivals, and I got an interesting one.”

“Okay…”

“You know, I normally end up working with the same editors, but I always send out letters of query. I shop my work to other publications. Maybe it sounds ridiculous, but I shopped my piece on body acceptance and positivity to a publishing house. I got a response.”

“It’s been over a year...”

“It’s not unusual for it to take that long, but the response is from Hearst. They’re looking at possibly publishing it in their digital editions of Seventeen and Marie Claire.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Dean chuckled softly. “I don’t know, a cog in their wheel must have caught wind of it. I’m trying not to lose my shit, but this is fucking huge for a writer like me. Hearst? Fucking Hearst? Holy shit.”

“You have the talent, that’s undeniable,” Cas smiled, standing from his chair to wrap his arms loosely around Dean’s waist from behind. He read the email over Dean’s shoulder and pressed his lips to his neck. “So this means traveling and meetings wearing your suit?”

“Some, but a lot of the details can be hammered out online.”

“Does this mean that we’re going to start shopping for a literary agent?” Cas grinned.

“I don’t think that I’m quite there, but holy shit.”

“I think that you already said that.”

“I’m giving myself a quota of at least a dozen more times.”

“Okay,” Cas shrugged, kissing Dean’s neck again. 

Dean set the laptop on his desk and turned in Cas’s arms. “I’ve been telling people that I’m a freelance writer for years. I work directly with editors at small publications and I talk about what I know. I don’t have articles published in the mainstream media.”

“You do now,” Cas chucked. “And I am proud enough to take you wherever you want to go for dinner.”

“Do we have time to fly to New York? I’m kind of partial to this little Italian place,” Dean grinned, that perfect smile that he saved for Cas. 

“Uh no. Yes, I have been busy and I no longer cry when I check my bank balance, but I’m going to have to give you an IOU on that one.”

“Terms accepted. Let’s just go for burgers and beer.”

“You want to celebrate with burgers and beer?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Okay,” Cas nodded and leaned in for a long kiss. “I really am proud of you,” he said softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

\--------------------

“When you’re famous, you’re not going to leave me for the life in the fast lane with literary groupies, are you? Are literary groupies a thing?” Cas smiled, leaning his body against Dean’s, letting the warm water pelt his chest.

“I have no idea about the groupie thing, and leaving isn’t an option,” Dean murmured while he ran his lips along Cas’s shoulders and slowly stroked his cock. “Why are we talking about this now?”

“Because you have amazing hands and I don’t want to try to picture my life without shower handjobs.”

“So don’t,” Dean smiled, pressing his hand against Cas’s stomach and stroking rhythmically. He felt the gasp when he slid his palm over the sensitive head and squeezed his shaft, stroking faster. Cas was trembling, his chest starting to heave when he cried out.

“Oh how you spoil me,” Cas murmured.

“You gave me shower head like ten minutes ago. This was actually a little uneven.”

“Not at all,” Cas sighed. “It was perfect.”

“You know, just over a year ago we were in Lawrence surrounded by people that we really didn’t give a shit about, each other included. I was so tired and irritable I didn’t know if I’d even come talk to you. But there you were, eavesdropping on Lisa and I, asking about soccer.”

“Actually, I was walking past to get a drink and heard you say that you’d been in Europe. I will always have soccer on the brain. It’s what made me stand out in high school. I needed to know if I should be jealous because you went to a game, or if I should think that you were an idiot for being right there and not going to a game.”

“And yet you still went out for a beer with an idiot.”

“But you’re charming, and I wanted you to admit that I was in fact the more proficient player.”

“And that somehow turned into blowjobs and handjobs in the shower.”

“It’s a crazy world,” Cas smiled. 

“I want to come out.”

“I know, and I’m getting there. Maybe you should write me a script so that I can drop the bomb. Maybe I’m underestimating my family, I don’t know. It just seems daunting. They see me as this quiet hermit who sits in an apartment and spends all day on his computer. Traveling the country with a man who I’ve been in a relationship with for months, it might come as a bit of a surprise.”

“They didn’t think that you were different over the holidays?”

“They did,” Cas sighed. “But they didn’t really question it. I have a lot of siblings and it’s easy to get purposely lost in the mix.”

“I won’t say anything until you’re ready, and I won’t put pressure on you. I just want you to know that I am proud of what we have. I’m ready to let the world know how lucky I am. Now I say we finish this before the water gets cold.”

\--------------------

Cas was writing in his journal, listening to the string of phone calls that Dean received from family and friends. His article had been published and the reviews were unbelievable. His byline was becoming recognizable and at times the attention, scrutiny, and pressure became overwhelming. But Dean, he always found distractions; weekend trips to the San Juan Islands, the drive to Berkeley to finish his courses and turn in his thesis. He and Cas would walk around the campus, the city, and talk about what happened there before they were born. The demand for change, the energy of a revolution. Berkeley renewed his passion for his work, the weekend trips strengthened his resolve to put his relationship with Cas first.

\--------------------

“Oh my god, I don’t know how many times I can say thank you,” Dean sighed, pouring a drink for each of them. “I get that my family is excited, but it’s starting to hit me on a whole new level. I don’t know that I’m ready to have my name out there. I know that I’m not in any position to have publishers knocking on the door or be up for awards, but people in the business are starting to recognize my work.”

“Your symposium and workshop invitation list has grown.”

“And now I have to actually turn some of them down.” Dean sat on the couch and wrapped an arm around Cas. “It’s strange when I go and you aren’t with me.”

“I know,” Cas moaned. “My schedule is so intermittent. I wish that I could be a kept man and just follow you around the world…”

“Asshole,” Dean grinned, pressing his lips to Cas’s temple. “But I would do it if I could.”

“I know you would. I wouldn’t want it, but I know that you would.”

“God I love you” Dean smiled softly. “You have this way of keeping me grounded while experiencing all of this with me. I don’t know how you do it,” he said quietly, pulling Cas closer. “I may have been published mainstream, I may have finished graduate school, but I would have done it alone in that small apartment. Your smile, your wit, the way that you feel things deeply, they have brought me back when I felt like I was going to a solitary place. I know that this has been one hell of a journey for you, and I know how much I mean to you. You never hesitate to let me know, you never have.”

“I don’t always feel like I bring that much to this.”

“Because I’m overbearing?” Dean smiled. 

“No,” Cas grinned. “I’m not well traveled or well versed. I’m almost naive when it comes to actually experiencing life. I mean I’ve learned…”

“You’ve taught too, baby. Trust me.”

“I love you.”

“I know,” Dean murmured.


	5. A measure of pain and helplessness

“Okay, just when I thought that life could not possibly get more bizarre…”

“What? I mean I know that I just got this huge bid and that’s pretty impressive…”

“An award, dick.”

“Your dick won an…” Cas stopped pouring his coffee and turned to Dean with wide innocent eyes.

“No,” Dean laughed.

“Well it should. I honestly believe that it deserves the highest honors. I mean we’re talking platinum medals, commendations, ceremonies dedicated solely to it. Maybe even a ticker tape parade.”

Dean gratefully took the mug that Cas handed him and leaned against the counter. “Is this your way of saying that you are sexually satisfied in our relationship?” 

“Was I being too subtle?” Cas smiled. “Okay, back to the award.”

“It’s not a huge deal, but it’s a step up from the sycophantic papers in cheap frames that I’ve been handed in the past. Not that I don’t appreciate those. Strangely this is recognizing me as a ‘new’ writer. Seven years of freelance, and I’m a ‘new’ writer.”

“So you’ve had a literary makeover. You’ve been rebranded.”

“I never had a brand.”

“You do now,” Cas chuckled. “What are the details?”

“Uh, some black tie function in San Fran. I’m one of about a dozen receiving awards, but this is a freestanding chunk of metal with my name inscribed on it. Well, it might be well painted plastic, but still…”

“When are we going to San Fran?”

“The first weekend of next month.” Dean grinned. “I’m guessing that you plan to be my plus one?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

“I can pick up the last of my paperwork from Berkeley, pretend like an award has affected me on an emotional level, and have hot sex in a nice hotel room.”

“It’s not affecting you on an emotional level?”

“Not really,” Dean shrugged “Professionally, of course. But I write what I feel and that’s never going to change. If this, my article being put out there in the mass media, if it’s isolated, I can live with that. I won’t lose sight of my integrity for the sake of money or accolades. We can stay in this apartment and wander around conventions, art galleries, or coffee shops for the rest of our lives. That’s my niche. Talking to real people, telling real stories. I wouldn’t know how to do anything else.”

“While I sit and design software.”

“Would you stop? We’ve talked about how necessary you are. Look at the things that you have done. You’re working with multi million dollar companies to help streamline their process. You don’t think that has an impact? What about that small project you did for the Washington ACLU? Or the one that you worked on with that team for students who have learning disabilities. Are you really going to stand there looking cute as hell in your boxers, holding a cup of coffee, and tell me that what you do isn’t relevant?”

“I guess when I sit there and code I don’t really think about the significance it may have when it’s complete and implemented.”

“You should. Think about the kids who are on the autism spectrum or dyslexic. Think about the program that you designed specifically for their needs so that they can absorb and understand information in a non traditional way. Because of that, their perspective, their self esteem is possibly altered. They are no longer marginalized in their education. You did that. You, Cas Novak did that. I watched you research and look at the need that is out there. You didn’t sit and code, you did something that has meaning and purpose. You need to look beyond the hours spent staring at a monitor and consider the end result.”

“Your passion is unbelievable.”

“So is yours, baby. I just talk about mine.”

\--------------------

Cas’s smile was genuine when he shook hands with Dean’s professors. They knew him, they knew of him, and he felt somehow valued and inspiring when they talked. They spoke in a way that he understood. He wasn’t Dean’s partner, he was part of the dinner conversation. Dean lauded his work while he tried to keep the blush from climbing up his cheeks. He felt validated when he graduated to friendly hugs and well wishes, when his information was written down and he was told that his work ethic was admirable and his name would be submitted if there was a need. Doors were opening and his first reaction was to credit Dean, but Dean was the catalyst, the work was solely his. 

\--------------------

“You are amazing,” Dean murmured, trailing his lips across Cas’s body. Cas was beginning to tremble, the anticipation building under Dean’s touch. He gasped at the gentle bite on his nipple, His fingers moved from where they’d been massaging Dean’s shoulders to run through his thick hair. The soft caress of Dean’s mouth on his stomach, the light kisses and gentle sucking on his hips and thighs was erotic in a way that he’d never encountered. The slick fingers were expected, needed. Dean’s tongue on his shaft had him becoming unhinged. He was desperate to feel Dean inside of him. He smiled slowly when Dean sat up and gripped his thighs, spreading his legs wider before he lined up and buried himself. Dean knelt, his eyes watching Cas’s perfect body, his hands calming him until he saw the look of pain shift. Cas’s hand wrapping around his own shaft and slowly stroking brought a physical shudder and he started to move, watching and listening. His thrusts were long and deep, he was entranced by the sight of his rigid cock sliding in and out of his lover’s body. His fingers gripped at Cas’s chest, his hand pressed against his stomach knowing that Cas could feel the pressure. He was already building, ready to come, trying to hold back when Cas lifted his hips and rocked, needing to feel him deeply. Cas’s cry, his lip caught between his teeth, the warm sticky fluid surging and dripping while he continued to squeeze himself released Dean from constraints. He thrust with a guttural groan and came hard, his chest heaving in the same rhythm as Cas’s. He knew when he pressed their bodies together, their hearts would be pounding to the same beat. He relaxed and let himself sink into Cas’s waiting arms, pulling him into a deep kiss. “I love you,” Cas finally whispered, his smile slow when he reached to trail his fingers down the side of Dean’s perfect face. “I love you so much, Dean.” Dean dipped his head to kiss Cas softly. These were the nights when the emotion was palpable. “I love you too, baby.” They held one another, Dean shivering at Cas’s fingers drawing lazy patterns on his back, Cas trembling at Dean’s full lips sliding across his throat and neck.

\--------------------

Cas smiled when he heard the soft snore. He loved when Dean fell asleep in his arms, his head on his chest. He felt his vulnerability and trust when he needed Cas to hold him. He pressed his lips to the still damp hair and pulled him closer.

\--------------------

“Holy shit you look hot in a tux,” Dean grinned almost wolfishly.

“Yeah, well it’s taking a lot of effort to control my body seeing you in one.”

“Considering that they are rentals, I’m guessing that we should show some decorum and self control when we get back to the room after this dinner and politely remove our clothing?”

“How does one politely remove their clothing? Do they thank it before draping it over the back of a chair?”

“Just because I write doesn’t mean that I don’t sound like a dumbass once in awhile.”

“I love your imperfections,” Cas smiled, kissing him lightly.

“I thought that you said I’m perfect.”

“Was that post sex ramblings?”

“Well, yeah. But don’t they count?”

“They do,” Cas chuckled softly. “But everyone has minor imperfections. At least that’s what my royal scribe told me when I had to let him go, only his language was a bit more colorful.”

“So whatever happened to the royal chef?”

“Career change. He’s now dragging moats professionally. He hasn’t called recently, but I’m guessing that it’s not a lucrative business. Not a lot of moats in Portland.”

“It’s a good thing you have yet to make any mortal enemies.”

“Yet?”

“You haven’t started coaching soccer and you tip very well these days.”

“Yeah,” Cas said thoughtfully. “But I think that I pissed off the mailman by not checking the mail for almost a week. He gave me the side eye the day before we left.”

“Scribes, baristas, soccer moms, mailmen, are you determined to piss everyone off?”

“That was my New Year’s resolution. So far it’s not going well, but I plan to put more effort into it when we get home.”

“I do love your dedication,” Dean smiled, pulling Cas to him and kissing him slowly. “Okay, maybe the long kiss and tux’s aren’t a good idea if I need to protect my respectability in public.”

“And on a stage. Have you written a speech?”

“Nope. I’m just going to wing it.”

“I don’t even know why I asked. You winging it is still better than a lot of published authors. So I guess it’s time to get downstairs to this ballroom and find our numbered table?”

“It’s a glamorous life,” Dean grinned. “I mean it’s not sharing a bathroom with seven other people glamorous, but still quite classy.”

“Let’s go,” Cas laughed.

\--------------------

“I know that I’m supposed to stand here with a long list of people to thank. I do want to thank the publishers, editors, and organizers who read my words and understood what I was trying to convey when I sat down and wrote them. I want to thank each and every person who was willing to open up and tell me their story, giving me the opportunity to turn it into an experience that might entertain or touch others. But most importantly, I need to thank the Soccer King of Lawrence High School who challenges me, pushes me, respects me, and accepts the chaos that I bring. I love you.”

Cas smiled and applauded quietly, flustered by the eyes that turned to glance at the empty chair next to him. They had held hands when they arrived. They had been photographed being affectionate. Cas knew if news of this award made it to Lawrence, he wouldn’t need a script. He kissed Dean lightly and reached for his hand when he sat back down.

“Embarrassed?”

“A little, but it’s not about me. I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you Cas.”

“I love you too.”

\--------------------

They were quietly discussing how long they were required to stay at the after dinner cocktail party when they looked at each other and sighed. He was there, the filmmaker from Seattle, and he was walking towards them. He was more genial, praising Dean and engaging Cas in conversation. They were staying at the hotel, so they accepted his offer of another round of drinks. It was for show, the liquor was free, but it was a display of good will.

“Thanks,” Dean smiled, raising the glass that he’d just been handed.

“Don’t thank me, you earned it.”

“I just wrote the words. Somebody out there decided that they were award worthy.”

“Is he always this humble?”

Cas felt the nudging elbow against his side and tried to smile at the forced rapport. “No, usually he’s so full of himself that I can barely handle him.”

Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head. “But you still put up with me.”

“I need someone to proofread my tweets.”

“You aren’t the only one,” the filmmaker chuckled.

They talked and drank. It was baseless but polite. Dean tried to make the rounds, shake hands and pose for pictures. Cas stood off to the side and watched, the easy smile, creases in the corners of his eyes, the charm that he exuded. Public Dean would always be breathtaking.

“So I’m guessing that you are this Soccer King?”

“Uh, yeah,” Cas muttered.

“You’ve been together since high school.”

Cas tried not to glare at the filmmaker. He was fishing for personal information about a private situation. “No, we’ve known each other since high school.”

“Ah, one of those romantic ‘reunited years later’ stories.”

“Something like that.”

“Your glasses are empty, let me go grab us another round.”

“We really don’t…” Cas trailed off, watching his back as he moved towards the bar. At least they were only an elevator ride away from their room and neither of them seemed tipsy yet.

“This public relations smiling pretty for the camera bullshit is a little aggravating. I can only keep up the persona for so long.”

“Never fear, your filmmaker friend should be back any minute with fresh drinks.”

“Okay,” Dean smiled. “The one time I’ll be legitimately happy to see the guy.”

\--------------------

Cas watched Dean sink into a chair and drop his head. “Are you okay?”

“Uh yeah, just a little dizzy. The alcohol mixed with the amount of egocentrism in this room has pushed me beyond my normal level of tolerance.”

“Do you want to go back to the room?”

“Yeah,” Dean said quietly. “Just give me a minute.”

“Do you want some water?”

“Yeah.”

“I can go grab it.” Cas heard the voice behind him, and almost sighed with relief.

“Thank you,” he turned and smiled.

“Is he okay?”

“It’s just been a long day.”

“Understandable. I’ll be right back.”

Again, Cas watched him walk away and pulled a chair in front of Dean. He knew that if he squatted down it would bring unwanted attention. He sat and reached for Dean’s hand. His palm was sweaty and he was shaking. “Are you sure that you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I just need to lay down.”

“What’s his name just went to grab you some water. That’ll help.” 

Dean finally lifted his head and looked around, hoping that nobody was watching. He didn’t want to be the writer who drank too much, and he knew that’s what he was personifying.

“I grabbed some orange juice. I figured that the vitamins and natural sugars might help.”

Dean smiled weakly, taking the glass out of the filmmaker’s hand. He stood awkwardly near them until Dean pulled himself to his feet. “Let’s go,” he said quietly. He was unsteady and Cas tried to casually wrap his arm around his waist.

“Dean…”

“I really need to just get to the room, Cas,” Dean almost slurred. Dean was a couple of inches taller than him, had easily 10 pounds on him, and Cas could feel the last tumbler of scotch kicking in. 

“Are you guys staying here?”

“Uh yeah, second floor.” Cas searched the bland face, neatly trimmed dark beard, dark eyes. There was nothing menacing but nothing that stood out about the man. He almost felt empathetic, he remembered being the kid who was seeking acceptance. He remembered telling Dean that hanging out with the popular kids was on his bucket list. Once again, Dean was a popular kid. “If we can find a way to quietly get him out of here and upstairs I would really appreciate it. We need to avoid the cameras and as many people as we can.”

“Yeah, okay,” the filmmaker nodded, reaching casually for Dean’s elbow. They moved slowly but calmly to the elevator and Cas didn’t realize that he’d been holding his breath until he hit the button that would take them to the second floor.

He felt Dean sliding out of his grasp and his head was swimming when he reached for him. They just needed to get to the room and sleep it off. Cas took slow even breaths, trying to clear his mind when they stepped off of the elevator and moved down the hallway. He finally pulled the key card out of his pocket and opened the door.

“Thanks, I appreciate your…” Cas didn’t see the fist when he started to turn his head.

\--------------------

Dean had never felt like this. He’d been drunk, he’d been almost blackout drunk, but this was something new. His limbs were heavy, he was dazed and could barely speak. He reached for the filmmaker when he saw the punch, but ended up on his knees. He didn’t have the strength to stand. He tried to yell, but it came out weak and strangled. He helplessly watched the man hit Cas a couple of more times, then drag him to the bed and lift him roughly onto it. He pulled a chair next to it and looked at Dean. 

“All of these years,” he said in a low voice. “You have smiled and winked. You are quite the flirt, Dean.” He pulled Dean up by his armpits and unceremoniously dropped him in the chair. 

Cas finally lifted his head slowly, the side of his face swollen, and their eyes met. He’d drugged them. He was out of their line of vision when Cas started to reach for his phone, started to yell. He felt the washcloth shoved roughly in his mouth. He choked and wondered if any teeth had been loosened. Dean tried to move, but could only watch when Cas was pulled to his feet and he saw the glint of metal. Dean was screaming, his throat was already sore from the effort, but it was still nothing more than a strangled cry. He was horrified, the knife was pressed against Cas’s jugular. 

“It’s been you that I want, but you made a decent choice when you picked this little bitch.” He pulled Cas’s tie off and the knife slid slowly down his torso, sharp enough to slice through thread, shirt buttons were dropping on the floor until Cas’s chest and stomach were exposed. The sharp knife was back at Cas’s throat when he was ordered to take his jacket and shirt off. Cas was shaking, dizzy, and sick. He’d never understood true fear until that moment. He knew that there would be blood. His? Deans? Maybe both. He saw the helplessness in Dean’s eyes and he couldn’t stop his tears. They slid across his temples and into his hairline when he was turned and pushed back onto the bed, the filmmaker crawling up to straddle him.

“No! Cas! No! I’m so fucking sorry! Stop!” Dean heard it, it resonated in his head almost painfully. Dean was terrified. He saw the knee pressed against Cas’s throat, his hands being held together. The filmmaker shifted and he couldn’t see around them.

The bones in Cas’s wrists were grinding, the shoelace wrapped so tightly around them that it had broken the skin. He couldn’t see Dean, but he could sense him. He must not be able to move or speak, he would have done so by now. Cas tried to use his legs to struggle, but he was weak and pinned to the mattress. “What do you want,” he whispered hoarsely. Just that small effort sapped his body of energy.

“I wanted him,” the filmmaker grinned before flipping Cas back onto his stomach. He climbed off of the bed and stood behind Dean. Cas struggled to roll over, to move, but his body was failing him. He watched the knife press against the skin of Dean’s neck, a small trickle of blood staining the white collar of his shirt. Dean’s eyes were open, he was aware, and Cas felt like he was slowly dying inside when he stared at the blood. “I honestly wasn’t sure what I was going to do. I mean, this one here, he’s entirely too pretty to fuck up his face. Don’t get me wrong, you’re a good looking guy, but Dean, he’s something special.” With a flick of his wrist he cut Dean again, just enough to draw more blood. All Cas saw were red tears, streaming down Dean’s neck, staining a shirt that didn’t even belong to them. “But the issue is, he led me on. The flirting and the winking, the extra long handshakes.” Cas tried to turn his head, he’d lost sight of the filmmaker again. He tried to fight when he felt the hands grip his hips and pull him back, his face still pressed against the mattress. “I do plan to get what I want from him, but I thought he might like a little show first.”

Dean was sobbing, screaming, trying to move. He was sick when he watched Cas’s belt land on the floor. He couldn’t breathe when he heard the zipper. He tried, he tried so hard to do anything, to stop this. He finally took a deep breath and focused, somehow finding enough energy to slowly slide his hand across his leg and slip his phone out of his pocket, hitting the ‘emergency’ button.

Cas closed his eyes, needing to take himself to another place and pretend like his pants and boxers hadn’t been pulled down his thighs. But the pain, the white hot pain was undeniable. He heard the spitting, the frustrated grunts and curses, more spitting, saliva as lubricant. He screamed around the washcloth, then clenched his jaw. This measure of pain, it couldn’t be real. His mind was addled, he felt like he’d been halved by fire, his insides searing. He was fading in and out, crying, unable to open his eyes. He felt something warm running down the back of his thighs and worked the washcloth out of his mouth. He was jolted by another stab of unbearable pain and his eyes opened, he got a glimpse of Dean’s phone. The screen was visible enough for him to see that he’d somehow made a call. 

“Ah Dean, you really do have good taste. Your little bitch feels good, and he can take a cock. God, I could fuck him all night. In fact, I might just do that.”

It was rage, uncontrollable burning rage. This man was destroying what he loved the most. He could see it in Cas’s eyes. He saw everything in Cas’s eyes. He didn’t know if they would ever come back from this. “Fuck you,” he was finally able to mutter.

“What was that? Fuck you? Did you just proposition me, Dean? Dean Winchester, the crown prince of the literary world. Don’t you like the show? I can make it more exciting,” he said, gruffly winding his fingers through Cas’s hair and pulling his head back. “Can you see those pretty blue eyes? Does he look like he’s having fun?” He was still inside of Cas, standing behind him when he reached for his knife, wrapping his arm around Cas’s waist. “Now, I can’t really see what I’m doing. I mean I have your bitch with his pretty little ass in the air, so I hope that I don’t damage any important parts.”

Cas finally screamed when he felt the blade slide across his abdomen.

“Do not scream,” the filmmaker growled, thrusting forcefully, slamming his body violently against Cas’s repeatedly.

“Fairmont,” Cas stammered, hoping his voice was picked up by whoever was on the other end of the call but not by the filmmaker. He was beaten and broken. “Fairmont…”

Dean heard Cas, he tried to meet his eyes, he silently begged for forgiveness. He was shattered, but Cas...Cas was ebbing. Dean felt every grunt in his chest, his stomach turned when he saw the sneer on the filmmaker’s face and heard Cas scream again.

“Do not fucking scream!”

Can felt the fist against his neck, against the side of his face, against his temple...and everything went black.

Dean was sobbing when Cas’s body dropped and lie prone on the bed. He was sick, orange juice and liquor rising up his throat.

“You didn’t like that?”

He watched the filmmaker pull his pants up and walk towards him. “Now, I fucked your bitch, but I didn’t come. I’m saving that for you, pretty boy.” Dean watched the slow spread of blood under Cas’s body. He didn’t know if it was lifeblood, if Cas was going to survive this. His tie was violently pulled from his neck, his shirt collar opening the knife wounds further. The fresh flow of blood, the coppery smell was enough to make him gag. The filmmaker pulled his legs apart and started rubbing his crotch, frustrated that Dean stayed limp. “I guess I gave you a little too much when I brought you a drink. I’m a patient man, I can wait.” He was touching Dean, standing behind him, sliding his hands under his shirt. He could smell the sweat, he could smell his own fear as he stared at Cas, silently willing him to sit up, to move. “Maybe I’m not as patient as I thought.” The fetid breath was hot against his ear, the sound of a zipper echoed. “Now, we’re going to do this and you’re going to play nice. I’m going to warn you that I don’t like teeth.” Fingers were digging at Dean’s cheeks, his chin, trying to pry his mouth open. He closed his eyes when he he heard the click of the knife and felt the cold metal against his throat. Cas still hadn’t moved. Dean was ready to die when he heard a loud boom. It was through a daze that he saw the uniformed bodies rush at the filmmaker and take him down. He heard the handcuffs and watched as he was pulled upright and dragged out of the room before the paramedics rushed in.


	6. I will always protect you

“Can you talk?”

Dean tried, but all he could do was whisper faintly. 

“Okay we’ll see if this works. Have you taken drugs? Just nod.”

Dean nodded slightly.

“Willingly?”

Dean kept his head still.

“You were drugged?”

Dean nodded and tried to look around her body. He could sense the commotion near the bed, he heard the murmurs and shouting for a stretcher, but he couldn’t see.

“Do you know the man on the bed?”

Dean nodded.

“Do you know that man the police put in handcuffs?”

Dean nodded.

“Did he assault you both?”

Dean nodded and started to sob. He was crying and retching, sliding out of the chair when he was lifted onto a stretcher. Cas was gone, already on his way to the hospital. Dean cried, he’d never cried so hard in his life. This was all his fault.

\--------------------

Cas’s eyes were heavy when he tried to open them. He turned his head and winced, everything hurt. He heard voices, beeping, and he finally realized where he was. He saw a shape moving towards him through a fog and tried to curl his body, groaning at the pain.

“It’s okay, you’re at the hospital and we are going to take care of you. Can you talk?”

“Yeah,” he whispered, nearly choking on the word. “Dean?”

“Dean Winchester? He’s here and he’s safe.”

“How long?”

“You’ve been here since last night, almost 24 hours. The doctor will be in to check on you soon. What is your pain level right now? One being almost no pain, five being extreme pain.”

“Four,” Cas’s throat hurt, he couldn’t swallow, he started to feel like he couldn’t breathe. His body was trembling and his mind was blank. He knew what was there, but he couldn’t let himself think about it.

“I will get you some medication for your pain and something to relax you. Your last blood test showed no trace of the drugs still in your system. Just try to relax sweetie.” Cas recoiled from the nurse's attempt to touch his arm. “You’re going to be okay,” she said quietly.

\--------------------

Dean was groggy, his neck hurt, and his throat felt raw. His limbs ached and were heavy, but he could move them. He’d been laying there for hours, still unable to speak. He saw a pad of paper and a pencil on the table and tried to reach for them. He was clumsy, barely able to hold the pencil when he painstakingly began to slowly write, his handwriting near illegible.

\--------------------

“It’s good to see you awake. I just need to take a look at you real quick.”

Cas was in too much pain, too cloudy to be embarrassed when the doctor lifted his gown and spread his legs then checked his stomach.

“The stitches look good. You do have a rectal tear and the cut across your abdomen. It was deep, but we were able to suture the muscle and skin. There was no damage to your internal organs, but you did lose a good amount of blood. The swelling in your face has gone down considerably. There are no broke bones, but due to the extent of your visible injuries and number of contusions, I’m going to guess that you have multiple muscle strains. We are going to keep you here for a couple of days just to be on the safe side. Your identification shows that you live in Washington state?”

Cas just nodded weakly.

“You came in with another patient. You share an address.”

It wasn’t a question, but again Cas nodded weakly.

“He will be ready to be released sometime tomorrow morning, but I will let him know that I’d like you to stay under observation.”

Cas nodded weakly again.

“Now I can have them bring you in a meal if you think you could eat. We can start you off with some toast, and soup.”

Cas nodded and tried to smile. He was fearful, yet the compassion brought tears to his eyes.

“We have a counselor who will be in to talk to you. Don’t push yourself. We need to get your body healed. Now, you have the call button in your hand. Let the nurses know if you need anything and I’ll have them bring that meal in to you. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

Cas nodded again and closed his eyes.

\--------------------

Dean was anxious when they told him that they would escort him to Cas’s room. He’d handed the police his notes and was able to finally talk, his throat still sore and his voice hoarse. He tried to remain stoic, but felt the tears when he told them what had happened, what Cas had endured. His beautiful Cas, his everything. He replayed what he had seen and heard. When he was left alone with the counselor she held his hand and tried to convince him that they were victims of a crime, he was not at fault, but he couldn’t accept it. Maybe it was irrational, but he had a string of what if’s that would not stop. What if he’d been distant towards the filmmaker. What if he’d rejected his offer of drinks. What if he’d declined his help getting to the room. They told him the man’s name, but he refused to say or even think it. A name made him sound human, and he was in no way human. They let him change from his gown into scrubs, their clothes had been taken into evidence, and he was led down the hall. His heart was pounding when he walked slowly into the room.

\--------------------

His breath caught when he heard it.

“Cas?”

It was coarse, low, and quiet, but it was Dean. He turned his head and their eyes met. He knew that Dean could see everything, and he knew that Dean was broken.

“Can I? I mean is it okay if I?”

“You can touch him if he is comfortable with it,” the nurse said quietly.

He was hesitant when he pulled up a chair and reached for Cas’s hand. He felt the slight reluctance, but they intertwined their fingers.

“I’m sorry baby. I am so fucking sorry…”

“Dean, don’t.”

“You don’t want to talk about it?”

Cas bit back tears and turned his head, watching the numbers on the monitors change.

“We won’t, okay. We don’t even have to talk. God, you are beautiful,” Dean whispered, slowly pulling Cas’s hand to his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Cas said quietly. He couldn’t look at Dean, he couldn’t look into those eyes and see the pain. Not yet.

\--------------------

Dean went back to the hotel to get their bags. The bed was stripped, the sheets probably taken into evidence as well, but he still saw blood stains on the mattress. Cas’s body, that is where it had been left for dead. Dean couldn’t control the mental images, the look in Cas’s eyes, the smirk on the filmmaker’s face. His Cas, his perfect Cas had lost a part of himself in that room, on that mattress. Dean didn’t know how many times he asked himself if they could come back from this.

\--------------------

They were releasing Cas, they were able to go home. The victim’s advocate told them that unless the filmmaker took a plea bargain, they would have to testify. Dean would give anything for a plea bargain, anything to not force Cas talk about it to a room full of strangers. He wouldn’t talk to the counselor or the victim’s advocate. He wouldn’t even talk to Dean. Dean was told not to push him, not to ask questions. 

Cas sat on a pillow in the car, they didn’t talk about why. Dean drove carefully, adhered to the speed limit, avoided bumps. He’d seen Cas’s stomach, the 40+ stitches that ran across his lower abdomen. Dean saw the bruises all over his body when he helped him get dressed. Some were fading, some were still a sickening mix of purple and red. His wrists were scabbed from where the shoelace had cut into his skin. His face was no longer swollen, but those bruises, they hadn’t faded. 

Cas didn’t say much, but he’d hugged Dean tightly at the hospital, kissed him softly, and was holding his hand while they drove home. Cas was alive. He could hear him and feel him. At that moment, nothing else mattered.

\--------------------

They had just settled on the couch when they got the first call.

\--------------------

“Oh, hey Lis. Um, I can’t really talk right now I have a bunch of shit...Wait what? You saw it where? Fuck! Please tell me that...Holy shit...Well, you can tell me what it said or I can look it up. It doesn’t fucking matter at this point,” Dean said with a resigned sigh. Cas curled up against him and tilted his head, watching him while he talked. “No, I’m fine...I am. My neck has seen better days but I didn’t need stitches, they just used that glue shit...Uh yeah there was somebody else there...I really don’t want to get into that...I know, but it’s not something that I can talk about right now...Yeah, I swear that I’m okay...I really am...I’ll have to call you back...Thanks Lis....Bye.” 

Dean dropped his phone on the coffee table and pressed his lips to the top of Cas’s head. “It hit the news. Journalist Dean Winchester and a male companion. They aren’t releasing your name because of the…”

“Because it was a sexual assault,” Cas said quietly.

“Yeah. I guess not a lot of details are out there. Me and a male companion were drugged, held against our will, and assaulted over a period of time in a hotel in San Francisco. I am so sorry.”

“They didn’t release my name. Why are you sorry?”

“Because of this whole…”

“Dean, don’t...please. I’m not going to stay silent, I know that eventually I’ll implode if I do, but right now I need to be as far away from it as possible.”

“Okay,” Dean sighed. “I should probably call my mom. If Lisa knows…” They both turned at the sound of the phone buzzing on the coffee table. “Or I can wait for her to call me.”

His mother knew that ‘male companion’ meant lover, even if she didn’t say it. She tried to coddle Dean over the phone, but he just repeated that he was fine and he didn’t want to talk about it. Cas could hear his frustration and tried to imagine speaking to his own family. He wasn’t there. He needed silence, even with Dean. He heard the call ending and watched the phone land on the coffee table again. He didn’t give in to the conditioned line of questioning. He didn’t ask what was said or ask how the family was doing. He didn’t want to know about anything outside of their home. He finally felt safe, he couldn’t let himself be exposed or vulnerable.

“Do you need anything?”

“Just a break from the world,” Cas smiled weakly.

“Okay,” Dean whispered, pulling Cas to him. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Let’s just watch a movie and order take out.”

\--------------------

Dean watched Cas’s chest rise and fall, heard the soft even breaths, and wondered what he was seeing, what was going through his mind. Neither had really slept at the hospital, and it was late. He didn’t know if he should wake Cas, just to lead him up the stairs to the bed, or if he should let him sleep on the couch. The decision was made for him when Cas shifted and his eyes opened. “Hey,” he murmured groggily.

“Hey, it’s getting pretty late. Do you want to turn off the TV and go to bed.”

“Uh, yeah,” Cas yawned, carefully getting up off of the couch. Dean watched him start their nightly routine of checking to make sure that the lights were all off and the deadbolt was locked while he shut off the TV. Cas checked the lock, tried the knob and started to walk away. But, he turned back around and checked the door again, ensuring that the lock was in place, ensuring that nobody could get in without a key, and then let Dean help him slowly up the spiral staircase. 

They stripped, Cas leaving his boxers on when he climbed into bed. They’d slept nude almost every night since they’d gone to New York, but Dean saw the protective barrier that Cas was creating and left his own boxers on when he slid under the sheets. He reached out and received a gentle kiss before Cas laid his head on his chest and curled up against his side. 

“I love you baby,”

“I love you too.”

\--------------------

Cas tried to even out his breathing after he felt the lamp turn off. He wanted to sleep, he wanted to exist in an empty darkness and not a world of flashing images and sounds. He wanted to feel Dean’s skin upon his, but he didn’t want to be touched. It didn’t make sense, but he couldn’t say anything. Dean blamed himself, he’d blamed himself the entire time the assault had taken place. Cas had to think ‘assault’. He wasn’t prepared for the stigmatized reality of the ‘r’ word. There was a sense of shame that came with another person physically controlling your vulnerability. There was a humiliation that seeped in when he thought about being violated in such a personal way. He felt contaminated. It was as if the vile dregs of humanity has somehow been left inside of him. There was no logic, just fear and revulsion. 

\--------------------

Cas felt pressure on his chest, his throat, when he rolled over and tried to breath. He was terrified until he was able to gasp, to feel the air in his lungs. His body was slick with sweat and inundated by a dull throbbing. He pressed his hand to his stomach and felt the bandages. There were stitches, he’d been in the hospital, and now he was home safe. The soft snore, the warm skin, it was Dean. He moved closer, his breath shuddering when Dean rolled on his side and curled his body protectively around him, murmuring and pressing his lips to the back of his neck in his sleep.

\--------------------

“Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” Cas smiled weakly. “It was nice to be home in my own bed.”

They both knew that he was lying.

\--------------------

Dean made coffee and watched Cas from the kitchen as he mindlessly pulled up the cable guide, scrolled through a few channels, checked the DVR, and pulled up the guide again. He remembered the counselor’s words. Don’t push him, as much as he loved him and wanted to put the pieces back together, it needed to be on Cas’s terms. He remembered talking about himself, his own victimization. He didn’t feel like a victim of anything, he still felt powerless. He filled two mugs and carried them into the living room, handing one to Cas and carefully sitting down next to him. “Did you find anything to watch?”

“Do we still take turns making that decision?”

“I don’t think so,” Dean smiled. “I know that we have a lot on the DVR, so pick something.” He was hesitant to reach out, but he needed, they both needed, life at home to feel neutral and routine. He settled back, assured when Cas leaned against him and chose an old movie that they both loved, but had seen enough times to have memorized the script almost verbatim. 

\--------------------

They talked over dinner, mostly reminiscing, going as far back as high school. They didn’t mention work or their families. Neither had any desire to leave the apartment. It wasn’t just for Cas’s benefit. Dean’s feelings were ambiguous, but there was something lying under the surface that he wasn’t ready to face. 

That’s how they lived. They carried on hollow discussions, ate take out, and slept. There was no quick fix.

\-------------------- 

Dean could see the pain slowly diminishing when Cas moved around the apartment. The bruises were gone, a local doctor had removed the stitches that hadn’t dissolved. The torment came at night when he would toss and turn in Dean’s arms, sobbing or quietly mewling. He would repeat the name of the hotel, cry out, or beg for help. Dean tried to pull him close, tried to comfort him, whispered softly that he would always protect him. He tried not to break down when Cas moved out of his arms, reviled by his touch in the dark. He found some relief when Cas would start to stir and seek his warmth, needing to feel his skin. He was always trembling in those moments, and Dean would hold him close until his body calmed. 

\--------------------

Cas hated the near constant guilt in Dean’s eyes, the shadow of fear sporadically crossing the weary emerald green. It had only been a few weeks, but Cas felt mired, ankles deep in quicksand. He’d picked up the counselor’s business card more than once, picturing the location, memorizing the phone number. They just needed time. That’s what they told themselves. Dean seemed to be teetering on a cusp, waiting for Cas. He refused to recognize his own pain and anger. He hid behind a veil of concern, Cas saw that, but in his own way he understood. Somebody else’s torment was easier to recognize than your own. Facing your personal damage was daunting, helping somebody to face theirs was a distraction. He was more than a distraction to Dean, he knew that he meant everything to Dean, but he didn’t want the conversation to start on his terms. They needed to have it, but neither was prepared to initiate it.

\--------------------

It wasn’t until a picture from the awards ceremony emerged that the choice was no longer theirs. Everybody knew.

\--------------------

“Okay, I get that the awards ceremony and what happened in the hotel room were technically not related, but the one time they publish a picture of us with a little blurb about the fucking award, it was taken that same night. Everybody who fucking knows me has been googling my name. I don’t know if they’re looking for details, or they’re curious about my career. I’d like to think that it’s my career. But it’s out there. I didn’t want it to happen like this. I am so sorry.”

“We’ve talked before about the chances of a picture of us ending up in the press. We knew that night it was a real possibility. A part of me hoped that it would because it would be a cowards way of coming out. Photographic proof that I’m with a man. Yes, now they know who the male companion is and it’s embarrassing as hell…”

“Embarrassing? Cas, no. There is no reason to be embarrassed. You were a victim of a crime. It doesn’t matter what crime. Men are sexually assaulted, it happens more than people realize. There is absolutely no shame in what happened to you, to us.” He reached for Cas and wrapped his arms around him. They still held each other, kissed, touched almost intimately at times, but they hadn’t attempted to make love. Cas wasn’t able to truly talk about it and Dean was devastated that now people knew, that Cas was in a position of being asked questions that he wasn’t ready to answer.

“I guess I should call my mom,” Cas sighed. “I don’t want her to read it or hear about it from the neighbors.” He started to cry against Dean’s neck when he was pulled close. “What do I even say? How do I even start the conversation?”

“Do you want to go to Lawrence? You can go alone, I can go with you. We don’t have to see anybody other than your family.”

“You would come with me?”

“Of course, I will do whatever you need me to do to help you through this. I can’t imagine…” Dean’s voice caught.

“Yes you can,” Cas cried softly. “You had to watch. I know that you’re in as much pain as I am right now. I need you and you need me. We won’t get through this until we both admit how much this hurts.”

“You’re right, baby. You are,” Dean said quietly. “I’ll book the tickets. We’ll leave tonight.”

\--------------------

They had to face it in the form of a 1970’s brick rambler style home in the midwest. The glass walls that they had built, some they shared some were individual, were shattered, and that night now existed to other people.

\--------------------

“Hi mom,” Cas smiled weakly when she met them at the door. “You remember Dean Winchester.”

“From the soccer team, yes I do.” She looked at Dean with confusion, stepping back to let them in the house. “I was surprised when you called. I could have picked you up from the airport.”

“No, renting a car was fine. Is dad home?”

“Yes, he’s out in the backyard. Do you want me to go get him.”

“Please,” Cas said quietly. He gestured for Dean to sit next to him on the couch and reached for his laptop. His body was visibly shaking when he pulled up the picture and the article. He handed it to Dean when he stood to hug both of his parents. He dropped his head when he sat back down and stared at the shoelaces woven through the eyelets on his boots. “Something happened. I could have let you find out through the grapevine, I could have called, but Dean suggested that I come here. I uh...god I don’t even know where to start.” He tilted his head and looked at the ceiling while Dean fought the urge to reach for him. “So, Dean is my roommate, kind of. This is a picture that was taken of us about a month ago.” Cas handed his laptop to his mother and waited. “He and I are in a relationship. We have been for months.” He finally gave himself permission to reach for Dean’s hand and gripped it tightly. “Maybe this is hard to wrap your head around, I don’t know. But before we even consider talking about that I uh...I need you to read something.”

He pulled up the article and the slow tears didn’t go unnoticed when he closed his eyes. His knuckles turned white while he squeezed Dean’s hand and waited.

“Oh my lord...Cas,” his mother cried. “That happened to you?”

“Yes,” Cas whispered, nodding slowly. “To both of us. We were drugged, Dean was uh...he was forced to watch.”

Dean looked away and wiped his eyes. He didn’t see a balance in what had happened, not like Cas did. He held Cas for hours while he worked through the nightmares, he didn’t even know if Cas was aware of them, or of him. But at times he was awakened by his own, “it should have been me,” playing as a mantra in his head.

“You were drugged, held in a hotel room, beaten, and…”

“Raped,” Cas’s voice broke after a long silence. “It needs to be said,” he cried softly. He let go of Dean’s hand when his mother leaned over to wrap her arms around him. Cas moved off of the couch and knelt on the floor, crying on his mother’s shoulder while his father reached over and rubbed his back reassuringly. 

\-------------------- 

Dean looked at his hands and ignored his own tears. He knew that he had shed more in the last month than he had in the almost 30 years prior. He quietly offered to go to his parent’s, but was instead invited to dinner. He couldn’t tell how the Novak’s felt about Cas’s revelation, but he saw what bordered on camaraderie in his mother’s eyes.

\--------------------

They small talked. Family news, work, neighborhood gossip. Dean stayed quiet, knowing that he was a bit player. He rested his hand reassuringly on Cas’s leg under the table and smiled when he heard him laugh at a horrible dad joke. He hadn’t heard that laugh since they’d sat at a reserved table wearing matching tux’s. They were offered beer, but politely declined. Neither had touched alcohol since that night. He sensed that Cas still felt disjointed and they left not long after dinner under the guise of exhaustion. They had a hotel room in town, they wanted to be anonymous. They still hadn’t talked about whether or not they would call or spend time with anybody else. This wasn’t a vacation, this was an unmasking.

\--------------------

They stopped in the doorway of the hotel room. It wasn’t as large or opulent as the room in San Francisco, but the set up was similar. In reality, they all were. 

Dean finally took a deep breath and walked in, dropping his bag on the table. He felt Cas’s body heat and closed his eyes when he was pulled into his arms from behind. He reached to intertwine their fingers, holding their hands against his chest. “How are you feeling?”

“About my parents? Relieved. I expected our relationship to be a bigger bombshell, but it was overshadowed.”

“Yeah,” Dean said quietly, leaning back against Cas’s chest. “I think that is going to be thematic. But I’m uh...I’m worried.”

“About what?”

“You let your parents read the article. It has the basic facts, but the whole story isn’t there. God, I wouldn’t want the whole story there. But are you okay just talking about the basic facts without ever...never mind,” Dean sighed.

“What?”

“I’m not supposed to push you. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You’re wondering if I’m okay with just glossing over the details.”

“I don’t know, Cas. We don’t need to talk about details, I’m fairly confident that even though we don’t want to, we both remember them clearly. But is that how we deal with it? Just the sum and not the parts? Read the article until the full reality falls away? I know that I sound like an asshole, I’m not trying to push you. I’m so fucking confused. It says in black and white that this happened to my male companion. Somebody anonymous, somebody who wouldn’t even exist if that picture had never been published. I read the article and I can disengage. I can ignore my own name and see a hazy gray outline of a human being who may or may not be real. But I sat at your parents house and I watched two people humanize that hazy gray outline. Is that what you need?”

“To forget the details? I can’t. They come to me at night, but you probably know that. I honestly don’t know what in the fuck I need. I can’t stay in bed or curled up on the fucking couch ordering take out. I don’t want to. But what is worse? The paralysis? Or reliving it by telling somebody every sordid detail down to how many buttons ended up on the floor?”

“The last fucking thing that I want is for you to relive it. You’re right, I do know about the nightmares. I hold you until they fade and I will keep doing that until they finally end. Is that what you need from me? Silent support? I feel like such a dick, but I am so lost right now. You say that you don’t blame me, but I blame myself...”

“Because you let me into your life and exposed me to people like him? As horrifying as it is, we pass people like him on the street without knowing it. That’s not on you. Because he has some type of obsession with you? You didn’t do anything to perpetuate that. I see you interact with people all of the time. Nothing that you do could be construed as an attempt to start an actual relationship. Because he wanted you and I got in the way? There was no way of knowing that he would follow us into that room. He attacked me because he wanted to hurt you and he wanted me gone. You heard him, he wasn’t done. We don’t know what would have happened to you if the police didn’t show up. You aren’t unscathed, Dean. Is this projection?”

“What?”

“Do you need to talk?”

“I…” Dean turned around and pulled Cas close pressing his lips to his temple. “I honestly don’t know. I can’t talk to a friend or family member, I don’t want to see the look in their eyes. I waver when I think about talking to a total stranger. I understand that it’s healthy to walk in with a clean slate and no prior knowledge, but it is so fucking personal.”

“So talk to me.”

“That...no...I can’t do that. It’s got to be a two way conversation and I refuse to push you any more than I already have.”

“Maybe I need a push, Dean. I’m still fucking scared to death. I crawl into bed at night terrified and the only thing that calms me is the sound of your heartbeat and the feeling of your body against mine. But I don’t know what haunts me more. What I felt, or what I saw in your eyes. You were devastated and helpless. What you saw was so ugly that I watched you fall apart while it was happening. I know that you love me and you had to sit there…” Cas took a deep breath and stepped back, out of Dean’s arms. He ran his hands up his face and sighed. “You had to sit there and watch him punch me, cut my clothes off of my body, tie my hands above my head, pull me to my knees, and rape me. He forced you to look into my eyes while he was doing it. You heard me scream when he ran that knife across my stomach. So let’s talk about that. He punched me in the doorway, that’s where it starts.”

“Cas…”

“Please,” Cas begged, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Make me fucking talk about it. I need you to. I am not your male companion. I am Cas Novak, your living breathing best friend and lover. But I’m fucking paralyzed. I’m barely living and breathing, Dean. I need somebody to ask me how I felt. I can’t let it slowly poison me from the inside out. He punched me in the doorway. That’s where it starts…”

“I wanted to help you,” Dean said quietly, forcing himself to look at Cas’s face and not the floor or the ceiling. “I tried. I tried so fucking hard but I couldn’t move. There were seven buttons...seven buttons on the carpet. I watched every single one of them fall. I heard you choke when he shoved that washcloth in your mouth. I saw you try to move your legs when he was tying your wrists. He flipped you over and I heard your belt buckle. The way that he looked at me.” Dean’s jaw clenched, his body tensed when he finally broke and tilted his head towards the ceiling. “He smiled. He fucking smiled and called you my bitch. He...he enjoyed what he was doing and I couldn’t do a fucking thing. I was two feet away from you and I couldn’t stop him. I had to look into your eyes, knowing that I couldn’t protect you. I will always protect you Cas. You are everything to me and I will always protect you. But I couldn’t…”

“No you couldn’t, but it wasn’t your fault. You did nothing wrong and I need you to believe that. Because I need you to help me let go of the fear,” Cas cried. “He had physical control over me that night, but I have let that night dominate me every minute of every day since I walked out of that hospital. We were targeted, he had it planned, and it has fucked me up. The amount of pain and humiliation, it broke me. He violated me, and it wasn’t just because he had sex with me against my will. It’s because what he did, that is something that I have only experienced with you. It was a betrayal and a mockery of something that takes trust, something that I consider paramount and intimate. I feel dirty and tainted, and logically I know that it’s not my fault. But he had no right to take that from me. He had absolutely no right to take off my blinders and show me that sex can be weapon.”

“That wasn’t sex, Cas. It was violence. You are not dirty or tainted. You are more beautiful to me now than you have ever been because you’re a fucking warrior. I heard you say the name of the hotel. You screamed and got somebody’s attention. You told your parents face to face. I just want your nightmares to end.”

“So do I, and they will. I need to know if we have to testify. We need to be prepared for that, but the only way to prepare is to remember it. That’s when we’ll know how to put it behind us.”

Dean held his shaking body while they both cried, trying to accept that they couldn’t turn back time. What had happened, it was real, but guilt and fear could not dictate how they lived. Cas thought about the drawing, the paths, and he needed to choose the path that took him away from the pain.

“I love you baby.”

“I love you too,” Cas said softly, pressing their lips together. 

\--------------------

Cas dropped his boxers on the floor before crawling into bed. He’d worn boxers to bed since the attack, but Dean felt the shift. He climbed under the covers nude and left the lamp on when he pulled Cas close. His hands were tender, his lips soothing as they moved across Cas’s skin. He gently kissed the scar that had been left by the sharp blade, unconsciously trying to heal Cas’s wounds, to restore his belief that what they shared was sacred. Cas closed his eyes and lost himself in Dean’s quiet passion. He was unafraid when Dean settled between his legs for the first time in almost a month. He was hard, craving the feeling of Dean’s warm skin against his. They rocked with an easy rhythm, moving fluidly, kissing languidly. Dean’s eyes closed when he felt Cas’s hands on his shoulders, running down his back, pressing against his ass. He was there, he was present, he needed Dean. “You are beautiful,” he whispered. “Everything about you is beautiful.” He rolled slowly, pulling Cas on top of him. He thought about New York, their clumsy first time. This was another first, a renewal. It was seamless and sultry, a fine sheen of sweat against velvet skin. The slow friction building to a undeniable desire when their bodies tenses and their cocks throbbed. Dean smiled slowly when Cas cried out and he felt the warmth spread between them. He took a deep breath and let himself feel it, the release. He expected tears when he pulled Cas into his arms, but Cas’s eyes were tranquil. “Thank you,” Cas whispered. Dean cupped his face, running a thumb along his cheek. “Help a guy clean up in the shower?” Cas dropped his head and chuckled softly. “Isn’t it tradition?”

\--------------------

Dean curled his body protectively around Cas and pressed his lips to the back of his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Dean,” Cas murmured, holding Dean’s arms against his chest.

\-------------------- 

They’d just left the Winchester’s where Cas had been welcomed and not questioned. John offered him eight goats with a smile and Dean made it a point to Google instructions on how to obtain the goats. Cas felt detached, and he wasn’t surprised by it. Dean knew and held his hand or pressed his lips to his temple to quell his nerves.

Cas didn’t expect to feel so nervous when they pulled up in front of the Lafitte’s house.

“We can just go back to the hotel. They aren’t family, there’s no obligation of any type.”

“Am I an asshole…”

“No.” Dean reached for his hand and pulled it to his lips. “The Novaks, the Winchester’s, last night, I don’t think that I can do this right now. Lisa and Benny will understand. We pulled down the street in a nondescript rental car, not a ‘67 Chevy Impala. They’ll never know that we were here. Let’s get some dinner and relax. We can watch a movie and fall asleep early. We need to leave for Kansas City by 9:00 in the morning.”

“At this time tomorrow, we’ll almost be home.”

“We will,” Dean smiled, pulling away from the curb.”

\--------------------

They spent almost two days in bed, only leaving to use the bathroom or eat. Cas was silent, Dean was finally recognizing his own fear. He wondered if they’d taken a step back. They finally showered and moved to the couch, the silence was becoming stifling. Cas saw the beginnings of a dark road.

Dean felt like he wanted to crawl out of his skin the night that Cas finally broke down and told him, almost robotically, every detail, every thought that he’d had. He couldn’t even sit next to Dean, accept comfort. He just talked. He admitted to waking up at night, at times cringing when Dean touched him. He apologized, but Dean wouldn’t accept it much like Cas’s inability to accept his own apologies. 

They finally acknowledged that they needed to talk to somebody, somebody who would have no preconceived notions. Cas was trembling when he made the appointment.

\--------------------

“Mr. Novak,” the therapist smiled, holding her hand out. “Why don’t you take a seat.”

“Uh okay,” Cas stammered. “I’ve never actually done this before so I’m not sure where to start.”

“You start with what you feel comfortable telling me.”

“I don’t feel comfortable telling anybody anything, not even my boyfriend. Maybe that’s because he was there, or because he blames himself.”

“Blames himself?”

“I was uh...I was raped. Beaten, violated, and basically left for dead because somebody was obsessed with him and used me to hurt him. It worked. I fucking hate it, but it worked,” Cas rambled. He didn’t know why, but the floodgates had finally opened and he couldn’t let himself care if what he was saying made sense. He just needed to talk. “I mean, the asshole is in jail and we’re waiting to find out if we have to testify, but he took what Dean cares about the most and he defiled it. All Dean ever wanted was for me to be a part of his world, I wanted to be a part of it. He’s a writer, an award winning writer. I was so ridiculously happy for him, but that was the night that it happened. The night of the award ceremony. I know that when he thinks about it, he feels like his lifestyle did this to me.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“None of it was his fault. He has been loving and supportive, and I find myself rolling away from him in bed because sometimes I can’t stand being touched. I can’t live like this,” he started to cry softly. “I can’t let one horrific night destroy everything that we have built. Dean, he’s my world. He’s perfect in so many ways and I have never doubted how he feels about me. But I share a bed with a man whose touch sometimes scares me, and yet I need him to help me put my life back together. I don’t know how to reconcile that. I can’t be afraid of him just because he is a man and sees me when I’m at my most vulnerable.” 

“Have you talked to him about this?”

“He was there. He saw everything. I’ve opened up and I’ve told him, but I’m mired. I don’t know how to move forward. I don’t know how to stop myself from checking the locks multiple times before we go to bed. I don’t know how to have the life that we had before all of this shit happened.”

“Your life will never be the same. You were a victim, and so was he. You need each other…”

\--------------------

Cas sat alone in the coffee shop, playing with his phone, running the therapist’s words over and over. Physically, he had healed, but he would always have scars. It would be easy to slip and let those scars become demons, the thoughts that came to him at night. Or, he could begin to live again. The humiliation, it was justifiable in it’s own way, he felt like he carried a stigma. He hadn’t been stripped of his manhood, there was no shame in what he and Dean had endured. He finished his coffee and walked slowly to his car. He just wanted to be home, he just wanted to see those green eyes.

\--------------------

“You okay?” Dean asked, standing up from the couch when Cas walked in the door. He felt Cas’s arms around him, the warm tears against his neck.

“I need you to know that I’m not going to let him take anything away from me. There are things that I have shared with you and only you. I trust you, I gave you a part of me that nobody else will ever have. When you touch me, I feel alive. My world makes sense because you are a part of it, Dean. You mean everything to me and that is never going to change.”

“You mean everything to me too, baby,” Dean said quietly, closing his eyes and pulling Cas closer. 

\--------------------

It wasn’t about sex when Dean led Cas up the spiral staircase and they stripped slowly. They crawled into bed and held one another, skin to skin, while they talked in hushed tones. Words of pain, confusion, guilt, and fear slowly became love and trust. They needed each other. Hours passed, and they didn’t leave the bed to eat or shower. They found solace and peace when the sun finally set and they fell asleep with their limbs intertwined.


	7. Learning to live

“How was your session?”

“It was good. She thinks that since we’ve both been going individually, maybe we could try a couple of sessions together.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “It makes sense. Just let me know when.”

“Okay,” Cas said quietly, smiling at Dean. The glimmer was back in those beautiful blue eyes. “Oh, we got a letter and a package.”

“And they look to be in good condition, I guess you and the mailman have mended fences.”

“We went to coffee, had a nice long talk, aired our grievances.”

“Did you tip the barista?” Dean smiled, pressing his lips to Cas’s forehead on his way to the couch. “Who’s the letter for?”

“Both of us. It is from the State of California…”

“We already know what they were charging him with. He was looking at 20 years.”

“So, I guess this will tell us whether or not we should pack our bags and be ready for trial?” Cas said, his body trembling. They’d both anticipated and dreaded receiving this letter.

“I’m guessing so. Do you want me to open it?”

“No,” Cas took a deep breath. “I need to see it.” He opened the envelope and pulled out the documents, reading through them quickly. “He took a plea deal. 15 years with the possibility of parole after eight.”

“Eight? That doesn’t seem like…”

“We don’t have to testify, Dean. It’s done. He’s not a free man and we can work on putting it behind us.”

“We have been working on it, but you’re right,” Dean sighed. “I guess this is the final piece that we need. We’re getting there, baby. You said that there’s a package?”

“Uh yeah. Again, addressed to both of us.”

“You opened the letter.”

“So you get to open the package?” Cas smiled.

“Nah. You already have it in your hands and I’m sitting here doing some research. Go ahead.” Dean pulled the coffee cup to his lips and waited. 

“What in the fuck? How? I mean...where did you? How did you?”

Dean grinned and turned his head, “I called in a favor.”

“To an art major in Chicago?”

“Yeah. we talked at length about your interpretation of her work. You saw what she was trying to convey, you were moved by it. You look at it every day and you feel something. That’s what artists want. I told her a story, not a detailed one, and we worked out a deal.”

“Free press?”

“A human interest story. Plus shipping and handling. But,” Dean groaned, setting his laptop and mug on the coffee table before standing up. “I would like to see what she came up with.” Cas handed the framed drawing to him and he grinned. “This is amazing.” Again, it was a map, paths and roadways. They led to fear, anger, pain, shame, and guilt but the final destinations were ultimately love, hope, acceptance, peace, and trust. In the background was an image, almost indiscernible, of a human heart. 

“I would tell you that nobody has ever done anything like this for me.”

“And I would tell you again that somebody should have,” Dean smiled.

\--------------------

“Are you sure?” Dean asked quietly.

“Yes.” 

Dean sighed and took the bottle, dripping lube on his fingers. He couldn’t look into Cas’s eyes, but he needed Cas to see him. He left the lamp on and slowly slipped a finger inside, waiting for cries or gasps, but only heard the intake of breath when he found the spot. He was careful when he pulled and stretched, watching his cock instead of Cas’s face when he slowly buried himself. He finally lifted his eyes, and saw the pain mixed with pleasure that had always been there. Cas started to subtly rock and Dean let out a breath, relieved when Cas spread his legs wider and he leaned over to press their chests together. Cas was so tight around him, their bodies fit, and he was ready to come. He thrust slowly, kissed Cas deeply, and felt the throbbing. This was going to be quick for both of them, but it had been months and they were hungry. Dean’s thrusts were slow and shallow until he heard his name echo through the apartment. He slid his hips forward and came, almost painfully hard, inside of Cas. They were barely out of breath and they both smiled. “That didn’t take long,” Cas chuckled softly. “Uh no, I think that I was there before we even started,” Dean grinned, that smile meant only for Cas. He dipped his head for a sweet kiss. “You felt incredible,” Cas whispered. “I didn’t…” Cas cut Dean off by shaking his head and pulling him close to press their lips together. “You didn’t hurt me. I'm fine.”

\--------------------

Dean laid awake for hours, waiting, but Cas slept soundly in his arms. The soft even breaths across his chest made him shiver. He finally drifted off, not waking up until the sun filtered through the curtains.

\--------------------

“Son of a bitch, is your wifi working?”

“Uh yeah,” Cas turned in his desk chair and looked at Dean. “I’m assuming that yours isn’t?”

“No. I have less than an hour to get this article sent off.”

“Which piece?”

“The one about the arts, is it possible to live successfully as an artist in some form?'

"Aren’t you proof of that?”

“Not necessarily, especially if I can’t get this copy out.”

“Here,” Cas handed him a flash drive. “Put the article on this and you can send it from mine. I need to get up and move around anyway. Do you want anything from the coffee shop?”

“Uh sure, just my usual.”

“Okay,” Cas smiled, bending down to kiss him. “I’ll look at your computer when I get back. It must be nice to have 24/7 computer support.”

Dean rolled his eyes at Cas’s back and downloaded his article. He rolled his chair across the room and uploaded it onto Cas’s computer. He logged into his email and sent it off, sighing with relief. He started to turn away, but a document saved to the desktop caught his eye. It was simply titled ‘journal’. He knew that it was wrong, he was invading Cas’s privacy, but he clicked on it. He still worried about Cas. He was a gentle lover, always ensured that Cas fell asleep before he did, and instinctively knew when Cas felt uncomfortable in public. In return, Cas opened up to him, encouraged him, and lived with his chaos. Dean was only a few pages in when he heard the front door. Without thinking he uploaded the file and rolled back to his desk, putting the flash drive in his pocket.


	8. This is our story

Cas was in the office, one of his shirt and tie meetings, and Dean had taken his laptop into the living room. Cas had done a hard reset and his wifi was working again. He slid the flash drive out of his pocket and quickly downloaded the file, renaming it ‘Genre Conventions’. He skimmed through it until he heard the meeting end, and minimized the document, pulling up an outline that he’d been working on.

Cas’s writings dated back to just a few months after the reunion. It was a personal diary broken up by quotes and reminders to expound upon something, which he rarely seemed to do. The reunion, weekends spent in either Seattle or Portland, Lawrence, Chicago, New York, their apartment, Berkeley, and San Francisco all served as backdrops. Restaurants, coffee shops, symposiums, conventions, the zoo, art galleries, The Willis Tower, the awards ceremony, the hotel room all served as sets. Cas was the key player, Dean a co-star. Bit parts went to family, baristas that they knew by name, people he associated with while working, April, artists, speakers, Dean’s professors, and the filmmaker. It was heartfelt and simple, deep and meandering, dark and painful. Dean was emotional in a way that he couldn’t define. He hid behind a mask of neutrality when he suggested that they get out of the apartment and go to dinner. 

\--------------------

Dean read, he read as often as he could. It was a sometimes convoluted story about finding a friend in an unexpected place. It was a story about falling in love without realizing it. Even as the words were written, the feelings were underlying. He thought back, when did his own feelings change? When did Cas’s role in his life as a fixture start to become a need? It was long before they boarded a plane to New York. The affection had been mostly unconscious, never sexual in nature, but the physical comfort had been there. 

Some days he bit back laughter at the depictions of his character, realizing that they were honest. He saw the chaos that he brought, but he also saw the calm. Some days he fought tears. Cas’s internal battles, his fear and insecurities.

The description of the drawing, the first one, was poignant. Maybe that was the beginning of the shift. That drawing evoked sentiment in a more profound way than Dean had realized. That was the day that Cas took control of his own path.

He waited until Cas had an appointment with his therapist as well as some errands to run before he read about the week when they finally became lovers.

\--------------------

Cas had been nervous when Dean invited him to New York. He already knew that he wholly belonged to Dean, and Dean belonged to him. The connection, the attachment was there. The only boundary that they hadn’t crossed was sexual, and he was hesitant to change the status quo. He needed Dean, he couldn’t lose him in a microcosm of confusion and mixed signals. There needed to be meaning. But he knew. When he was physically affected by Dean’s body just inches away on that balcony, he knew. He wasn’t afraid of the physical pain, he was afraid of the wall that separated two beds. When the wall became nothing more than a physical barrier between two empty spaces rather than a metaphor, he felt complete. Dean remembered that awareness, his palm against Cas’s stomach, his fear of letting Cas down physically. The timidity when they sat on the chair, when they fell onto the bed. The brazen seduction in the dark when they’d woken up in the middle of the night. Cas knew that although they hadn’t said the words, he would never share a bed with anyone else.

\--------------------

They made love that night, Dean trying to somehow replicate the anticipation. It was beautiful and passionate, he let the tears come in the shower where they would go unnoticed. 

“You are everything to me, Cas,” he whispered in the dark, pressing his lips to the damp hair.

“I know,” Cas said quietly, comforted by the rhythm of Dean’s heartbeat when he laid his head on his chest. He knew that Dean no longer blamed himself, they had worked through that in therapy. There was no room for guilt, only understanding and devotion. “I want to go to Lawrence again. It’s been six months since the assault.” Assault, Cas still had difficulty using the word ‘rape’. “I need my parents, your parents, to see me as whole. It didn’t break us, and I want them to know that. I want to see Benny and Lisa. The emails, the phone calls, they’ve been amazing. But I want somebody who knew the Dean Winchester and Cas Novak who walked through the halls with backpacks slung over our shoulder to see that we make sense.”

“We don’t need to justify…”

“I’m not trying to justify. I just want the world to know that the way that we’ve changed, it’s more than just trying out a new hairstyle.”

“Okay,” Dean smiled. “Have you heard back from Berkeley?”

“Not yet. But if I do while we’re in Lawrence, I’ll just work late nights when we get home. It’s worth it to me because I need to come out. They are your friends and they know what we’ve been through. I’m not trying to position myself into that world…”

“It’s not my world, baby. It’s old friends who know me and just want me to be happy.”

“I need to be that happiness, Dean. I want to be the reason that Lisa stops worrying about you. I want to have a beer with Benny and talk about work and politics, tell him face to face how impressed I am by what he’s done with his life. I don’t want to be a vague memory of the skinny kid who was known in high school for being a varsity soccer player. I don’t want to be a news article that garners a sympathetic look.”

“Okay,” Dean said softly, pulling Cas closer. “We’ll go to Lawrence.”

\--------------------

“Dean-o,” Benny smiled, pulling Dean into a bearhug.

“You do know that I’ve always hated that bullshit frat boy nickname, right?”

“Of course I do. That’s why I use it.”

“Asshole,” Dean grinned. Cas’s palm was sweaty against his, but he didn’t seem as uneasy as Dean had expected.

“Cas,” Benny grinned, ignoring the outstretched hand and pulling Cas into a hug. “It’s good to see you, man. C’mon in. Lisa is already in the backyard with the kids. I just got the grill started and the cooler is full of beer.”

Cas searched Benny’s face for any sign of scrutiny, but there was none. They had questioned Dean’s sexuality, he knew that, but there was no judgment in the fact that his fingers were intertwined with Cas Novak’s. They followed Benny through the house and out a sliding glass door. Cas smiled at the twins running around, he almost laughed at Lisa’s attempt to control them. They were small versions of their father and Lisa had her hands full.

“Hey Lis,” Dean smiled when he let go of Cas’s hand to wrap his arms around his oldest and dearest friend.

“You look great.”

“I always have,” Dean winked. “I just get better with age.”

“Cas,” she beamed, reaching for him. She hugged him tightly and smiled when she took a step back. “You look amazing.”

“Can we not talk about that?” Benny’s eyebrows raised. “I almost ended up dealing with these two kids by myself because of you.”

Cas blushed and dropped his head, shaking it slowly. He heard the laughter and squeals and looked up to see Dean rough housing with the boys in the grass. “Is he this big of a man-child at home?” Lisa laughed.

“He dragged me to the zoo on a whim one day.”

“I guess that answers that. Apparently my husband has no manners…”

“You knew that when you married me,” Benny chuckled, leaning over to kiss his wife.

“Yes, and I went through with it anyway. Now, Cas, do you want something to drink?”

“Uh sure,” he let out a deep breath. They still didn’t drink often, not as much as they used to. “A beer would be great.”

“Go grab what you want out of the cooler. I have some of the good shit in there. I save the cheap shit for Dean.”

“So I’ve heard,” Cas smiled.

\--------------------

“So, three dumb jocks turned into a writer, a software designer, and a business owner. That was an unexpected plot twist,” Lisa chuckled, finally getting the twins settled down to eat.

“I was not dumb,” Dean mumbled with his mouth full. “I was average.”

“Hey, I kept my gpa high enough to stay on the football team.”

“Uh, I’m going to have to go with average as well,” Cas smiled. 

“She was the honor roll head cheerleader,” Benny grinned. “She likes to remind us of that as often as possible. Give her a minute and she’ll start in about our table manners.”

“You get a free pass when we barbecue.”

“Did you hear that boys? Daddy is going to barbecue every night.”

“Yay, hot dogs,” came the small chorus.

“Benny!” came the admonishment.

“So, software design?”

Cas looked at Benny and waited for Dean to speak for him, to list the accomplishments that he tended to minimize, but felt the hand on his leg, the gentle squeeze of encouragement. “Uh yeah. I basically sit at a desk and stare at a computer until I get a headache.”

“So what does it entail? I mean, what type of software do you design?” Lisa asked, resting her chin on her hands.

Cas took a deep breath when he felt the second gentle squeeze. “Well, I worked on a project for an educational program that helps children who have learning disabilities…” 

\--------------------

“How was that?” Dean looked at Cas with mild concern when they pulled the seatbelt across their bodies.

“Uh, fun actually. Benny has changed. He is smart and his political ideas are pretty incredible. Lisa hasn’t changed much. Still sweet and beautiful. Those kids…”

“Yeah,” Dean chuckled. “They are a handful and I love nothing more than getting them riled up. So you feel…”

“Out? Accepted?” Cas smiled. “I do. This...us...it was a non-issue. I guess they’ve had time to get used to the idea.”

“Which probably didn’t take long. I don’t let people into my personal life. The fact that I’ve let them see it is the surprise, not who I’m with.”

“You know,” Cas said quietly. “I knew that they wouldn’t bring it up, but I expected that sympathetic look, the acknowledgment of what happened.”

“They know.” Dean reached for Cas’s hand and pulled it to his lips. “And they care. But, they’ll never ask because they saw us smile and laugh. They saw that you are a survivor, that you make me happy.”

Cas leaned across the seat and kissed Dean gently. “I love you,” he murmured against his full lips.

“I love you too, baby. 

\--------------------

Cas was working on the Berkeley project. It was complicated and time consuming. He got frustrated, went on short rants, paced, but always sat back down at his computer with a sigh. He needed it to go well, he wanted his name associated with large schools and possible ground breaking design. Dean used the time that Cas spent distracted reading his journal.

\--------------------

His visits home for the holidays, his confusion, it was all there. Cas had wanted to share his contentment, his exhilaration and peace, with his family. He’d tried to muster up the courage, but he never found an opportune time and felt like he was somehow detracting from the importance of their relationship. But he always found balance in Dean’s arms. And then he was ready. He was going to tell them. He needed them to know how close to perfect his life really was.

It was only a matter of days after he’d made that decision that they found out that Dean had won an award.

\--------------------

Dean had been invited to speak at a small workshop in Portland. It was an event that he wouldn't have considered, but he knew that Cas was too entrenched in his project to go with him. He knew that it was wrong to go for that reason. He’d read everything leading up to the long drive from Seattle to San Francisco. He needed to read the rest while he was alone. 

The more he considered it, the more he wanted to delete the file. He’d already invaded Cas’s privacy in a way that was unforgivable. This...this was a trespass that he could never come back from. But his inherent curiosity, his deep love for Cas stopped him from deleting it. He closed his laptop, slid it into his bag, and kissed Cas tenderly at the door with a promise to call when he’d made it to the Super 8 that was 175 miles away.

\--------------------

It was unprofessional when he cancelled his appearance at the workshop. It didn’t feel right when he bought the cheap bottle of rum. He didn’t buy scotch, he didn’t know if he’d be able to drink it. He still clearly remembered the feeling of it rising up his throat. He called Cas, working to keep the guilt out of his voice when he told him how much he loved him, and sat on the bed with his laptop in front of him, a glass of liquor in his hand.

\--------------------

It wasn’t just painful, it was gut wrenching and paralyzing. He felt his tears only a few sentences in. The humiliation, the defilement, his own guilt seemed to outweigh the physical pain. Cas had been afraid for Dean, he’d felt guilty that Dean was forced to watch what was happening. He’d felt shame. He’d believed that he was so tainted and polluted that he didn’t deserve to be touched by tender hands. He’d been afraid of those tender hands and admitted to crying when he was alone because he was no longer the man that Dean had fallen in love with. He’d lost so much of who he was that night. He described, with vivid details, every moment that he remembered. The searing pain that seemed unending. The coolness of the blade as it crossed his stomach. The reprieve when the final punch knocked him unconscious. His terror when he woke up at the hospital. His denial, although his body told him what had happened, he was in denial. The nightmares, Dean felt them in his chest as he read. Night after night he’d listened to the cries and held Cas’s shaking body, but now he knew exactly what Cas had been seeing. He didn’t know how many times he felt his stomach roll. He didn’t know if the headache was from the alcohol or the unrelenting tears. 

He finally closed his laptop after the final entry. It had been written a few days before Dean had uploaded the file. It was about rebuilding and rediscovering. Finding what he had lost, deserving Dean’s love and needing to feel him sexually. The storm had passed and they were living. The two drawings that hung on the wall above his computer were his reminder that through the anger, guilt, and shame he would find peace, love, and contentment. He still had a life to live, the clock had not run out. He still had a heart that was capable of giving and receiving love.

Dean had never hated himself more than he did that night. He finished the bottle of rum and sent a drunken text, hoping that it made sense, before he laid on the lumpy mattress and stared at the ceiling.

\--------------------

Cas sensed the difference when Dean walked through the door, but accepted the excuse that he was tired and climbed the spiral staircase behind him. He slid under the sheets, somehow knowing that Dean needed to nap but he didn’t want to be alone. Dean’s arms were tense and strong when they wrapped around his body. He was murmuring promises of protection and love between gentle kisses to the back of Cas’s neck. Cas didn’t ask. Dean would tell him what was wrong when he was ready.

\--------------------

Dean didn’t know what to do. The only outlet he’d ever had was his writing, so he began to write.

\--------------------

“Let’s go to New York.”

“Do you have a symposium?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Cas said slowly, curling his body against Dean’s on the couch. “Are you doing research?”

“I’m always doing research, but no, that’s not what this is about. We’ve never taken a real vacation for the sake of just getting away. Every trip has in some way involved me working. I just want to go somewhere.”

“The same hotel?” Cas asked quietly.

“Yeah. And mediocre Italian food.”

“Okay,” Cas smiled, tilting his head for a kiss. Dean needed to find something, he didn’t know what it was, but Cas knew that he needed help.

\--------------------

“Not the same room, but a similar view,” Cas called over his shoulder from the balcony.

“I tried, but it was short notice. So I uh...I bought wine instead of…”

“No, that’s fine. I get it. I don’t know if I could drink scotch.”

“Me neither,” Dean mumbled, opening the bottle and filling two glasses. “Here,” he said quietly, handing one to Cas when he walked up behind him. He ran his hand under Cas’s shirt, splaying it across his stomach to pull him against his chest. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.”

“Have I...have I been there? Have I done enough to help get you through…”

“You’ve done more than anyone could have.”

“But was it enough?”

Cas dropped his head, this is what Dean needed, reassurance. “You understood when I couldn’t talk about it. You didn’t take it personally when I couldn’t be touched. You listened to me that night in Lawrence and you forced my hand because that’s what I needed,” he said quietly, his voice shaking. “I could ask you the same question. You were so busy worrying about me, you didn’t take the time to deal with your own demons. Maybe you still haven’t. What about me? Have I been a selfish bastard, just taking and taking, slowly bleeding you dry?”

“Oh god no, Cas. I never even knew that somebody like you existed, and I’ve felt that way since the first time I came to Portland. As a friend, you let me be a hurricane. As a lover, you’ve been bold and curious. In life, you are a fighter. I have never doubted how you feel. You know what I need and you silently give it to me without hesitation.”

“It’s symbiotic, Dean. This relationship is not uneven. Not on paper, not at home, not in this hotel room. You are a hurricane, but I know that I’m the calm. It’s always been that way. That night could have ruined us. As a couple, individually, but we didn’t let it. My nightmares stopped in your arms, but so did yours.” Cas closed his eyes and tilted his head when he felt Dean’s lips gently touch his neck. He didn’t turn in Dean’s arms, he lost himself in Dean’s touch. He finally reached for Dean’s hand, intertwining their fingers and leading him back into the room.

\--------------------

They set their glasses down, and Cas stopped next to the bed, waiting to feel Dean’s lips. The kiss was deep and tender, Dean’s hand was cupping Cas’s face, the other pressing against his lower back to hold their bodies close. He gently sucked and nipped at the sensitive skin of Cas’s neck, reaching for the hem of his shirt to pull it over his head. Cas closed his eyes and tilted his head back when Dean’s mouth moved across his chest, teasing his nipples, and down his stomach. He sat on the edge of the bed, running his palm up Cas’s hard length, undoing his belt, working his button and zipper finally freeing his cock. He heard the gasp when he slid his tongue across the head, tasting the precome, before taking it into his mouth. Cas’s fingers were in his hair, gently caressing and encouraging him, but he wasn’t going to come, not like this. Dean moaned around him, smiling when Cas’s body shuddered and he lifted his head. “I need to feel you inside of me,” he said quietly. He pushed Cas’s pants and boxers down his thighs, Cas reached for his shirt. They stripped with hunger until Dean laid back on the bed and pulled Cas to him. They kissed passionately, feeling the moans emanate from the other’s chest from where they were pressed together. Dean’s velvet hands knew where to touch, down Cas’s spine, squeezing his ass, up his sides to grip his shoulders. They rocked, unwittingly, against one another until the damp friction brought them close to the edge. “Not your fingers, just you,” Dean whispered when Cas reached for the small bottle. He knelt between Dean’s legs and their eyes locked when he slowly buried his cock. Cas saw the pain, pain that seemingly carried a need when Dean wrapped his fingers around himself and began to stroke. The thrusts were slow and gentle, Cas dropped his eyes to watch as he slid in and out of Dean’s body. Dean tilted his hips, meeting the thrusts, pulling Cas to him for a deep kiss. He moved his hand and was trapped between their bodies, warm skin gliding across his silky shaft. “Deeper,” he moaned, wrapping his legs around Cas, needing to feel all of him. They moved seamlessly, a perfect uninterrupted rhythm that Dean felt as an emotional satiation inside of him. He watched Cas pull his bottom lip between his teeth and tilt his head back. He came between them with Cas’s final thrust, his guttural groan and Cas’s passionate cry echoing through the musk filled room.

Their hands were tender under the warm spray of the shower. Dean gently trailed his fingers across the fading scar on Cas’s stomach and was pulled into a long kiss. 

\--------------------

“Are we somehow starting over?” Cas whispered when he laid his head on Dean’s chest. 

“No. I just needed to know that nothing has changed. That what we felt that first night, we still feel it.”

“Did you?”

“I felt more,” Dean smiled slowly, pressing his lips to the top of Cas’s head. “I love you, Cas.”

“I love you too.” Cas said softly, tilting his head for a sweet kiss.

\--------------------

They were tourists, walking down busy streets and visiting landmarks. They ate too much, made love as often as possible, but never finished the bottle of wine. Dean didn’t write. He didn’t even pull his laptop out of his bag. He wasn’t looking for a story, he was living one. He was experiencing life as something other than a writer.

\--------------------

Life felt normal, as normal as life with Dean Winchester and Cas Novak could be. They shared an office in companionable silence, unless Dean needed to bounce ideas off of Cas. They ordered take out and ate on the couch, or cooked something simple and ate at the table. They walked to the coffee shop hand in hand on weekdays to avoid a crowd. They went to the San Juan islands, Cas finally accompanied Dean to UCLA, and Dean wrote. Most of his articles were published, his byline was recognized, and he needed to believe it was because of his talent and not because his name had been in the news. But, that wasn’t all Dean wrote. 

He wrote about Cas’s journey, using excerpts, direct quotes and at times full entries from the journal. He wrote about his own journey, looking for parallels. There were things that he couldn’t bring himself to write about, but he hinted at them in a way that subtly brought them to light. 

Cas was in a shirt and tie meeting when he realized that he was done. He leaned back against the couch and sighed. It had been painful and cathartic, and he still didn’t know why he had done it. He put the files in his recycle bin more than once, but always restored them. He didn’t read them, he didn’t have to, but he couldn’t let go of them.

\--------------------

“Hey baby.”

“Hey,” Cas smiled, turning in his chair and tilting his head for a kiss. “What’s up?”

“How’s the project?”

“I uh...I actually just finished it.”

“Good,” Dean nodded, sitting down in his own chair. Cas could see that he was distracted and became uneasy when Dean dropped his head. “So, I uh...I did something.”

“Okay,” Cas said slowly. “Something is kind of broad.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I invaded your privacy.”

“Privacy?” Cas chuckled. “We live together. I didn’t know that we had privacy.”

“Here,” Dean said quietly, holding out the flash drive. He’d uploaded his ‘story’ as well as Cas’s journal on it and deleted them both from his hard drive.

“What’s this?”

“Wow,” Dean chuckled softly, running his hands up his face. “I didn’t realize how fucked up this would feel. I’m an asshole and a pussy for doing it this way,” he said quietly, standing up. “Those are writings, yours and mine. I’ve always said that everybody has a story, and I found yours. What I wrote, I don’t even know how to define it. I just wrote.”

“I’m not sure that I understand…”

“Maybe it would be for the best if you didn’t. You can throw that away and never look at what’s on there. Or, you can download the files.” Dean felt sick, dizzy, he knew that he shouldn’t have done this. His self loathing was suffocating. “I need to walk...fresh air...I just...I’m sorry, Cas.” He pressed his lips to the top of Cas’s head and like a coward, walked out.

\--------------------

_“I am a bisexual man. This is only the second time I’ve used the word bisexual to describe myself. The first time was a casual mention of a past relationship. I’m not ashamed of who I am, I’m certainly not ashamed of who I love. The revelation is of really no import, but if I am going to tell this story, I need to be honest in every way. I am a bisexual man. I’m a writer. I’m allergic to cats. I still wear rock t-shirts that I bought in college. I can be insecure as hell behind an arrogant facade. I’m madly in love, but at times I don’t feel deserving of the love that I get in return._

_I am a coward._

_I found the one, the person I would lay down my life for, and I invaded their privacy in a way that is unforgivable. Thoughts and words are absolute. There is no question of ownership, but I took them. I didn’t stop there. I read them, I responded to them, comparing my own experiences to the self realizations that I read. Realizations that aren’t mine. It’s indefensible. I am a bisexual man. I have a masters degree in journalism. I played soccer in high school. I am afraid of heights._

_But more importantly, I am a coward…_

\--------------------

The office door was closed when Dean got home. Cas’s car was in the parking lot. The only two rooms with doors were the office and the bathroom. Cas never closed the office door. Dean sighed and desperately wanted a drink. He didn’t know what to do. He could sit on the couch and pretend to watch TV. He could open his laptop and stare at the screen, waiting to hear the almost imperceptible squeak of the office door. He could climb the spiral staircase where he wouldn’t be able to hear anything until Cas started moving around the apartment. Leaving again wasn’t an option. He needed to deal with the consequences of what he’d done. He sat on the couch with his laptop, scrolling through rough drafts, and waited.

\--------------------

Cas was trembling. His anger and hurt, the feeling of betrayal, he wanted to scream or throw something. He’d never hidden anything from Dean, he’d always given an honest answer, but these were words that were not meant for Dean or anyone else. Maybe everybody did have a story, but this was his. He’d never actually sat down and read it all of the way through, he’d just written. There were things in there that he’d already forgotten, there were things in there that he’d tried to forget. He opened the second file and started to read.

\--------------------

Dean finally heard the office door and started to turn around. He saw Cas’s back and heard his feet on the staircase. He could follow him, turn and look up at the loft hoping to see him, or he could stay on the couch and leave Cas alone. He didn’t have the answers. He looked at the loft, but saw only shadows moving. Staying quiet, staying on the couch only made him more cowardly. He sighed and closed his laptop. He stood up and crossed the room to climb the stairs slowly.

\--------------------

Cas was sitting on the bed with a book. Not reading, just staring.

“Hey,” Dean said quietly, leaning against the wall at the top of the stairs.

“Hey.” It was curt and Cas didn’t lift his eyes.

“Listen, Cas…”

“You’re right. It’s indefensible. When did you do it?”

“The day that I needed to use your computer to send off my article. I saw the file on your desktop…”

“And you uploaded it.”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” Cas finally looked up, his eyes wide and confused. “What purpose did it serve? I tell you everything. I answer every question that you ask me honestly. So why?”

“I don’t know. I was confused. In my own way I was still fighting demons. Not because of what happened to me, but because a part of me still felt like I had failed you.”

“And I told you over and over that you didn’t, you haven’t. You thought that somewhere secretly in that file you would see that I was lying? That I did blame you? There is a whole lot of shit in there that has absolutely nothing to do with that night. Most of it has nothing to do with that night. There were no surprises. You already knew it, all of it. I don’t give a fuck that you read it, I wrote because sometimes I needed to make sense of what direction my life was going. It was a purge so that I could clear my mind. You are a writer, you’re curious. You love me and you were concerned. Now, I get that, I do. What I don’t get is that in the first paragraph that you wrote, you admitted that it was wrong. You were rubbernecking my thoughts and feelings. You couldn’t tear your eyes away.”

“No, I couldn’t. Yes, I knew the stories, I knew the outcomes, but I didn’t know the nuances. They are none of my business and it was unfair of me to take that from you. That’s why I wrote my part.”

“Knowing that I would ultimately read it.”

“No,” Dean shook his head slowly. “I had no intention of giving it to you. But I had no right to steal your words so this morning I uploaded them both and deleted them from my hard drive. I know that doesn’t make it right.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Cas said quietly, climbing off of the bed to strip down to his boxers. He didn’t look at Dean when he crawled under the sheets and pulled the blanket over his body, rolling on his side facing the wall. Dean sighed and again wanted a drink. He was contemplating a drive to the store, but instead he walked downstairs and laid on the couch. It wasn’t long until he heard the click of the lamp. The loft was dark. Cas wanted to be left alone.

\--------------------

Dean was on his third cup of coffee, maybe it was his fourth, he didn’t know. He hadn’t slept. He’d spent the night sitting on the couch, trying unsuccessfully to come up with an apology. He felt, more than heard, Cas leave, cringing when the door closed. 

He got up and showered, tried to eat, did some laundry, anything to kill time. Cas had an appointment with his therapist and he’d either be back within a couple of hours, or he was angry enough to stay gone. Dean sighed with relief when he heard the door.

\--------------------

“Here,” Cas said quietly, handing Dean the warm cardboard cup. 

“Thanks. How was your appointment?”

Cas let out a deep breath and lifted his eyes to look at Dean. “It was good. We talked about what happened yesterday.”

“I thought you would.”

“I think you should shop it.”

“What?” Dean asked incredulously. Publishing those writings was not an option.

“It’s a story, our story. It’s about finding a friend and falling in love. Building a life and feeling like it’s being taken from you. It’s about falling apart and knowing that all we had were each other. Everybody has a story. This is my story, my words. It’s your story, your words. You asked me if I could go through life glossing over the details? The details don’t matter anymore because I am here. I survived, so did you. I actually value that you pissed me off yesterday because we are together, in a position to laugh or cry or want to throw things at each other. I sat and I stared at those drawings and I followed the paths. The clock, the heart. Bad things happen, but it’s necessary because it gives absolute value to the things that I find meaningful. You fucked up, but you didn’t set out to hurt me. I’m not angry. I’m hurt, but it will pass. That story, it’s real fucking life. It’s the same life told using two different voices and when I read them together, it’s our sonnet. I’m not ashamed or embarrassed about the things that I had no control over. Edit out any of the things that may be too personal, except for the night that I was raped. That needs to be there, word for word. If somebody else has gone through what we went through and they read that, maybe they won’t feel alone. You kept me from being pulled under, and not everybody has that. Who knows, it’s entirely possible that there isn’t a publisher out there that wants to touch it. Parts of it are ugly and controversial. But it is real and it is honest and it is us,” Cas cried, stepping into Dean’s arms. 

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry,” Dean murmured against Cas’s neck.

“I know you are, and you owe me. I mean we’re talking an extremely expensive dinner type owe me,” Cas smiled weakly.

“At the very least,” Dean grinned, pressing his lips to Cas’s temple. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Do you really want me to shop it?”

“The first time that you came to Portland and I went to that workshop, we talked about the most meaningful narrative comes about when you strip yourself bare and show the world your vulnerability. You had dedicated your life to bring about social change. This, it’s social change, it’s our opportunity to personalize a stigma. I want you to shop it.”

\--------------------

Cas read the final draft. Dean had made edits, but only parts that they felt didn’t need to be made public, moments that belonged to them. He was reluctant, afraid that the nightmares might return, but not just his. It was both liberating and shameful. He’d expected to feel reconciled, not vulnerable. He nodded silently and closed his eyes when Dean sent the query.

Hearst picked it up and optioned to run it in more than one publication.

Their story was being told.

\--------------------

The article got rave reviews, but was controversial as Cas had expected. They knew that it was triggering. Dean had added a warning stating how explicit the portrayal of the night in San Francisco was. None of that had been edited, it was published verbatim.

They responded to emails from friends and family, but ignored the phone calls at first. Emails could convey little to no emotion. There was power in choosing which questions to answer. Parts of the story would always be difficult, and neither was ready to discuss them in a phone call or in person. 

\--------------------

“How was your expensive dinner?”

“Long overdue,” Cas murmured sleepily, pressing his back against Dean’s still damp chest. They had just showered, but the scent of musk and raw sex still permeated the sheets and pillows. 

“Long overdue but worth it?” Dean smiled.

“Definitely worth it.”

“Are we still talking about dinner?”

“Maybe,” Cas chuckled. “How about we just agree that it’s been an incredible night.”

“I’m good with that.”

“I feel like life is normal again.”

“Life with me is never normal, baby,” Dean grinned, pressing his lips to the back of Cas’s neck.

“Okay, that’s true. However, you have been downgraded from a hurricane to a tropical storm in your old age.”

“Old age? We’re the same age.”

“Right, but we’re roughly two years older than we were when we started talking at the reunion.”

“Ah, the days of moats and royal scribes,” Dean sighed.

“You still haven’t covered my sleeping place with rose petals.”

“You said that they were optional.”

“I lied,” Cas chuckled. 

“You’re not a rose petal kind of guy.”

“No, I’m really not.”

“God, I just want to keep you talking all night.”

“Why?” Cas smiled, rolling Dean’s arms.

“Because I think that this is the happiest we’ve sounded in a long time.”

“Maybe it is.”

“You’re at peace.” Dean smiled softly. 

“So are you.”

“We should go to the aquarium tomorrow.”

“What?” Cas laughed.

“The aquarium, you haven’t been. It’s amazing. I’ll try not to bitch about the animals being held in captivity. Trust me the marine life looks much happier.”

“You’re back.”

“Maybe, but I’m just a tropical storm now,” Dean grinned, pressing their lips together.

\--------------------

They walked through the aquarium holding hands. Dean stayed true to his word and pointed out how content the animals were. They gave them ridiculous names and backstories. Cas bestowed royal titles on all of them

\--------------------

“Are you sure that you are the calm in the storm?” Dean laughed. “You referred to an octopus as ‘sire’.”

“In my defense he looked very...imperial.”

“Now that’s just sexist,” Dean smiled, winking at the waitress when she set their plates down. “You don’t know if that octopus was male or female.”

“Okay, you are right. I may have inadvertently offended said octopus. If that is the case, when we return I will refer to it as m’lady.”

“When we return? So now you’re on board with my ridiculous and childish ways.”

“When have I ever told you no?”

“When I tried to talk you out of dragging me to the Willis Tower,” Dean grinned.

“You were just annoyed because I found your kryptonite. Master Winchester is afraid of heights.”

“Master Winchester is afraid of falling long distances to his death, there is a difference.”

“No,” Cas laughed. “There absolutely is not.”

“Okay,” Dean mumbled with his mouth full. “What are you afraid of? Obviously not heights. I’ve seen you catch spiders and take an elevator to the parking lot to release them back into the wild so we can scratch that. You’re not claustrophobic, that apartment in Portland was a testament to that.”

“Okay,” Cas sighed. “I’ll admit, I’m afraid of extremely elaborate cosplay at horror conventions.”

“Is that a thing?”

“It most certainly is,” Cas smiled.

\--------------------

Cas was enjoying his time between projects. When he wasn’t curled on the couch with Dean, he was listening to him talk about tattoo and body modification trends. They’d considered tattoos of their own, but nothing cliche or blatantly matching. Cas’s couldn’t picture it, but he loved hearing Dean wax poetic. 

\--------------------

“Apparently they want to give me another bullshit award.”

“Okay,” Cas said slowly. “For which piece?”

“Ours.”

“Human interest?”

“Something like that,” Dean sighed. “I don’t want it. I didn’t...we didn’t write that for recognition.”

“You don’t write anything for recognition.”

“I’m not going to do it.”

Cas leaned his body against Dean’s and looked at his computer screen. “Dean, you can’t turn it down. It’s your career and just because the last awards ceremony…”

“It really has nothing to do with that,” Dean pulled Cas closer and kissed him softly. “I know that we made the decision to publish it, and we have our reasons. But I don’t want accolades for writing about our life together. Only half of the story is mine, and in all reality it never should have been written.”

“But it was.”

“By both of us, but under my byline. It doesn’t feel right, Cas.”

“Listen, you are a ridiculously talented journalist. You have credibility and esteem in the industry. You’ve worked hard to carve out your niche and you’ve always kept your integrity intact.”

“Other than this.”

“No. Granted, this was something unique, but in the end it was cathartic. Twice I have stood on a stage at Berkeley and talked about male sexual assault. I was mortified both times. But the feedback, that mitigated the fear. I’m not alone, we are not alone. I was appalled when I saw the statistics, how many men are afraid to speak up”

“Would you have?” Dean asked softly.

“If the police hadn’t shown up? I still wouldn’t have had a choice. I was cut and drugged. It would have been discovered eventually. I was forced to confront it and now I see that as a positive outcome. I hated it, I will always hate it. But if I can lay my head on my pillow and envision that my truth and my honesty, or that story, helped one person, then we’ve won. I will always have a scar on my stomach. You will always have those faint white lines across your neck. That won’t change. Now, if the situation hadn’t transpired in the way that it did, would I have reported it? Probably not. There was embarrassment and shame. What if’s and guilt. I understand why people are so afraid of the judgment. I had no choice, but assuring people that they do, it’s empowering, Dean. Maybe our candor doesn’t merit an award, I don’t know. It’s your choice. Maybe it’s a smart career move…”

“This has absolutely nothing to do with my career. When we walk into that dinner, they will all know.”

“They already do,” Cas smiled weakly. “I’m not going to hide from it. When he’s up for parole I will go to California and testify in front of the parole board. I will continue to speak about it, regardless of how raw I feel. I never intended to be the face of any cause, but now I have a responsibility…”

“It’s not a responsibility, Cas. You have a right to live a quiet life in this loft.”

“Morally, it is a responsibility. I accepted that when I asked you to shop the article. We hid until we had processed it. That’s what we needed to do. But now, we live with it. It’s the sordid and excruciating chapter, but it is wedged between the beauty in the beginning and the contentment that we have now.”

“And our future?”

“I never really know what the future will be with you,” Cas laughed. “But I know that it will be Cas and Dean possibly knighting aquatic animals or boarding airplanes with less than 36 hours notice.”

“So want to go to LA? You want me to accept the award?”

“It’s not up to me. I’m just saying that I’m not so traumatized that I can never put on a tuxedo again. I will be able to manage the seven buttons and ignore the sympathetic or possibly biased looks from the people who realize that I was your male companion. I will always be your companion, your partner, your lover, your best friend. You are everything and what matters to you, matters to me.”

“God, I love you,” Dean set his laptop on the coffee table and pulled Cas closer on the couch. “I don’t know where I’d be…”

“Then don’t think about it. This is where you are. I love you, Dean.”

\--------------------

Cas tried to relax on the plane. They had been pressed for time during the symposium at UCLA and hadn’t been able to spend time with Dean’s brother. Cas was more nervous about meeting Sam than he was about the awards ceremony. They finally landed at LAX and he took a deep breath.

“I thought that we’d get a rental car instead of relying on Sam or Jess to drive us around.”

“Yeah,” Cas nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Do you want to grab something to eat?”

“From here?”

“You can actually find some pretty decent food at the airport. We can grab the car afterwards and drive to the hotel.”

“We could have stayed at your brother’s. I don’t want you to feel like…”

“He has two kids. I’d like to sleep in if possible.”

“Okay,” Cas smiled. “Valid reasoning. Now direct me towards a sandwich or something.”

“Yes your royal highness.”

\--------------------

“Do you remember when we went to Chicago?”

“Of course. It was the first trip that we took together.”

“With a wall between us.”

“We weren’t ready,” Cas smiled, looking into those emerald eyes.

“No, we weren’t. I remember your reaction. Why in the fuck would we go to Chicago?”

“You have to admit, it was a little odd.”

“Life with me is a little odd.”

“But rarely boring,” Cas grinned, taking a bit of his sandwich.

“We talked about your bucket list. I think that the only other time we discussed it was when we went to New York.”

“I have a confession to make. The bucket list was a ruse. It didn’t exist. My royal scribe tried to convince me that I needed one, but I didn’t know if I could suffer the disappointment of never actually working my way through it.”

“So you lied to me?” Dean smiled, the creases in the corners of his eyes beginning to show.

“Maybe. But in my defense, I was still trying to hang out with the cool kids. Small white lies are excusable.”

“So no bucket list?”

“Nope,” Cas shook his head.

“Well,” Dean took a deep breath. “Then I guess this was pointless.”

Cas picked up the sheets of paper and looked at them, lifted his eyes to see Dean’s smug smile and looked at them again. “Wait, so…”

“You said that if I asked you to go to Hawaii you would have your bags packed. Your bags are packed.”

“But your brother...and the award…”

“I don’t give a fuck about the award. I do give a fuck about my brother, but he isn’t even expecting us.”

“So this…”

“Whole thing was a ruse, just like your bucket list.”

Cas smiled at Dean, his blue eyes wide, searching Dean’s face. “Why?”

“I’ve never been there. I’m guessing that you’ve never been there. I was booking this flight and I saw a deal, so I took it. I emailed the publisher and gave them some spiel about a family situation. I apologized for not accepting the award in person. Now we still have about an hour before the plane leaves for Honolulu.”

“You did this for me?”

“Yeah,” Dean grinned. “Adventure a la Dean Winchester.”

“Are we still going to be doing this shit when we’re 70?”

“Nah. We’ll be waving canes and telling kids to get off of our damn lawn.”

“We live in an apartment, Dean.”

“Then we’ll go to the park.”

“You are crazy.”

“And you are not the first person to tell me that. I love you, baby.”

“I love you too,” Cas said quietly, leaning across the table to kiss Dean. “So we’re really…”

“Ohau bound? Yes we are.”

\--------------------

They were exhausted, falling asleep the minute their head hit their pillows. 

\--------------------

Cas rolled over, sunlight filtering through the shutters in the unfamiliar room. He could smell the ocean water and hibiscus. He wrapped his arms around Dean from behind and felt himself growing hard. Dean was awake but it was through a daze that he felt Cas’s lips moving across his shoulders, his hand wrapping around his shaft, stroking slowly. He reached for the bottle and handed it to Cas, smiling when the first finger slipped inside of him. He tilted his hips back with the second finger, moaning when it found the spot inside of him. Cas felt his need and buried his cock, his chest already sweat slicked when it pressed to Dean’s back. He rocked, thrusting, stroking Dean to the same rhythm. He knew that it would be quick. He could feel it building inside of Dean, the throbbing in his hand. He heard the guttural groan and cried out. He was panting when he pressed his lips to Dean’s shoulder and pulled out, rolling on his back.

“Was that Hawaiian for good morning?” Dean smiled, reaching for tissues.

“I don’t know, but it should be.”

Dean propped himself up on one elbow and looked into those beautiful blue eyes. “Shower then room service.”

“Tradition. Well, maybe not the room service,” Cas smiled slowly, letting Dean help him off of the bed.

\--------------------

“So, what is on the agenda? Touristy shit? Or in typical Dean Winchester fashion are we just going to wander around?”

“A little bit of both,” Dean mumbled, pulling his coffee mug to his lips. “I thought that today we could wander. We’re not too far from the beach, within walking distance.”

“I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”

“Yes you did, you just didn’t know it.”

“So you threw random shit in my bag?”

“Pretty much,” Dean chuckled. “I’m planning to throw these robes in our bags when we leave.”

“I think that’s an idea I could get behind. So wandering around in the sand...”

“Yep, but I found some cool touristy shit to do tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dean grinned, handing Cas a brochure.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Nope,” Dean laughed. “We just need to look up what time the sun is going to set.”

“We are really going to…”

“Ride off into the sunset? Yes.”

“I love that you are crazy,” Cas smiled, kissing Dean softly.

“I love that you are by my side when I pull shit like this.”

“Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

Dean closed his eyes when he felt Cas’s head resting against his shoulder. “I have an inkling. Do you have any idea how much I love you.”

“Yes,” Cas sighed contentedly. “So horses? Really?”

“Really.”


End file.
